Mirror Mirror
by Anjanas
Summary: It wasn't that Severus has an addiction - he could stop at any time. He'd already proved that. But the tantalizing images, the promise of a different life, just keep pulling him back.
1. Chapter 1

Severus knew he shouldn't do it.

He'd broken the habit when he'd been driven out of Hogwarts just before the war. More because he'd had no choice than by any rational decision he'd made, but _still_, he'd broken the habit. He'd been free.

Severus had itched to partake during the trial, the long court of public opinion that followed and the lonely, empty months after that where no-one had spoken to him and he had spoken to no-one, had come close to begging Minerva to take him back just to have human contact and not because _it_ \- _she_ \- was in Hogwarts.

But he hadn't, and now he was better. So when Minerva had written to him and expressed a desire to have him back in the castle, heading the Slytherins once more, he'd barely thought about his... _predilections_.

The castle at night had an empty quality, his quarters barely lit by a fire that had burned low for hours, and it made his skin itch.

He knew where it was, of course. The mirror. He could feel it whispering to him, calling to him along the dusty corridors.

The wards didn't precisely recognise him as Headmaster any longer, but they didn't deny him either. He saw the mirror like a golden glint whenever his fingers brushed against the cold walls, waiting for him. He shouldn't, and yet…

Severus' mouth was dry with anticipation as he neared the Room of Requirement, and he paced quickly back and forward at its entrance, stumbling over his own feet.

Gods he was pathetic. Like an addict on his way to a fix. Even as his lip curled, though, he reached for the handle and yanked the door open.

There it was. The Mirror of Erised, waiting for him innocuously, a comfortable chair set before it, a book cracked open over the arm. Just as he had left it over a year before when he had thought he would be returning the next day.

His breath flowed from him and his eyes prickled. Even though he had known it was still here, seeing it was a different form of relief - stronger, more bitter.

Now he could slow down. His heart hammering in his chest, he took his time to walk to the center of the room, luxuriating in the anticipation that flooded through him.

He knew he shouldn't, and yet he was here now… What could it really harm?

With crooked teeth biting at his thin lip, he took the seat. The book rustled as though it welcomed his attention, and he picked it up and placed it reverently on his knee, pages open to him. A cup of tea appeared, hovering at his elbow, but he didn't take it yet.

The longer he held off, the stronger he felt. He wouldn't deny himself long, just long enough to prove he could - that this was desire and not need.

His long eyelashes flickered over his cheek as he took one more sweet, relaxed breath. Then he looked up, up at his reflection.

The mirror sat in the middle of a luxurious library, every shelf crammed with books. Severus could almost smell the thick, musty scent of old books, their parchment calling to his fingers just as the book on his lap had welcomed him.

And she was there, of course. She always was, no matter how long since his last visit.

She didn't change much, his woman of Erised. She was always barefoot, a fact he had found both interesting and odd, wrapped up in a chunky knit blanket with her toes peeking out of the bottom. The blanket fell from one shoulder too, exposing a thin strap stretching across the bare skin. A half-drunk cup of tea rested on the table next to her, and her face was turned away, slumbering gently to the side so that, try as he might, Severus was never able to identify her, even this slim corner of her face obscured by long, wild curls.

That Severus wasn't a part of his greatest desire didn't bother him anymore. In a way, he was in the room with her, sat in his matching armchair, a book at his fingertips and a steaming cup of tea.

Finally, he tore his eyes from the witch, and surveyed the rest of the room, opening his hand to accept the mug that still floated by his elbow while he did so. The routine of this made his shoulders, stiff with knowledge that the students would return to flood the castle soon, relax, the tension fleeing down his body.

Books surrounded them. The vision was so real he nearly always forgot it was just that, craning his head up to gaze at the ceiling above them only to be startled by the reflection boundary. The room never allowed him to get sucked in by replicating the surroundings he saw in the mirror any more than the seat and the tea, as though knowing that by doing so it would only worsen the time when Severus had to stand up and walk the cold, lonely route back to his dungeons, his spartan room and his passionless routines.

He should have been strong enough to resist this pull, this obsession. He wasn't, and sitting here, staring around him at the high-ceilinged library he just knew was his own, filled with books that he and Eri - he called her that for want of a better name for his mystery woman - had picked by hand, read, discussed, laughed over or studied, heads bent over their desk.

He imagined kissing those lips every night, the ones he could never see, before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to bed.

With a sigh he tore his eyes from her again - he hadn't noticed he'd begun staring once more at her beautiful, obscured form - and looked down at the book in his hand, forcing himself to focus on the small print. This habit of his had to stop before he went insane, he knew that. Rationally. And yet… Perhaps it was too late for him. The days that had stretched in misery and loneliness during his self-imposed exile from Hogwarts suddenly faded from view. He was here now, with her. He was happy.

It wasn't that his desire was to have some woman silent and sleeping, he considered as his eyes flicked down the page of the muggle novel. It was that anyone, knowing his past, would trust him enough to daze before him, succumbing to sleep... It almost broke his heart how much he wanted that in real life, wanted someone to trust him implicitly, to love him, to want him by their side even at their most vulnerable.

She shifted, and he froze, the book in his lap forgotten, the tea still cupped against his chest.

Eri never moved. She never, ever moved. The portrait of his mother hanging between tall shelves occasionally waved to him, but only Eri's chest, rising and falling rhythmically as she drew each long breath, broke the stillness of her body.

He couldn't draw his eyes away from her as one by one the coils of her hair fell from her face to cascade over her shoulders. She mumbled something and turned sleepily towards him. The book on her lap slipped, displacing the blanket to reveal a shapely thigh descending from grey shorts.

Severus forgot to breathe as she turned to him in her slumber and smiled a peaceful, happy, welcoming smile and his heart at once burst and iced over.

Hermione Granger couldn't be his heart's true desire... could she?


	2. Chapter 2: Intervention

"What is she doing here?" Severus hissed, his hand cutting through the air in a jab towards the entrance hall. If he'd had hackles, he'd have raised them.

"Why Severus, whatever is the matter?" Minerva asked, turning towards him. Her fork hung in midair as she followed his glare. "Ah, Miss Granger, you mean?"

The woman stood framed by the double doors, dwarfed by them. Her hair was caught up around her shoulders and across her face as though she had just been dragged through a hedge backwards, but Severus would recognise that body, that hair, that stance anywhere. She looked nothing like the calm vision in the mirror, but he couldn't deny that she was Eri, either.

The damned mirror must be broken.

"Surely it's Mrs Weasley by now?" His voice grated past his teeth, weedling and angry.

"Oh, no. No, that didn't last long at all." The Headmistress' voice was tinged with regret, as having the Princess of Gryffindor shack up with a famous quidditch player had been her trump card for many years.

Miss Granger shoved her hair behind her ears with both hands and offered a demure wave at McGonagall across the Great Hall.

Severus saw Peeves flying towards her before anyone at the Head Table could blink, but he was too far away to intervene. Besides, he didn't want to. She was nothing to him. He certainly hadn't spent every night this week tossing and turning, trying to plan ways to get close to her. Just to prove that damned mirror wrong, of course.

She swung to the side as the poltergeist approached, and Peeves flew past, giddily doing a somersault. Before he could find her, Hermione had cast four or five spells. Her wand blurred with the speed at which she cast, shrinking and binding the poltergeist to a pavestone on the 3rd floor for the day.

Satisfied he was gone, she turned her wand towards her hair and cast a quick charm that settled several locks of hair back into place, twisting them up into a respectable… style.

The overall look was still one of chaos, but presentable chaos. Far closer to a certain other woman who had haunted Severus for many years, far from the student.

"You didn't answer my question." He drawled, watching as the delectable former student minced closer. "Why is she here?"

"She's here because the board of governors asked me to ensure you had a ministry approved interview before you began teaching again. I did tell you."

"The students arrive tomorrow." Severus felt his temper and frustration rise, his gaze snapping back to Minerva's.

"Exactly why she is here today. Ah, Hermione, how wonderful to see you."

In truth, Severus was no longer sure what he had signed. He'd been only too happy to have the chance to return to Hogwarts, and his drug of choice.

The forbidden mirror.

Now, however, the thing he most desired was stood opposite Minerva's chair, chatting quietly with her. And tossing him occasional, brown glimpses of curiosity or worry or assessment - something that he couldn't quite discern, something that disquieted him, made goosebumps crawl up his forearms.

He hadn't seen her for years, not since the Medical Wing - when he had thoroughly embarrassed himself. When he had opened eyes he had thought long since frozen to find her warm chocolate eyes staring intently at his throat. He had followed the view down her top to the breasts which seemed to bounce on their own accord as she worked diligently on saving his life. The vision had been enough to make him wonder if he had accidentally been admitted to heaven - until his lower half had jumped to attention. Forgotten for too long, it had ignored all Severus' frustrated, angry demands that it _cease and desist_ and instead stood, proud and tall, beneath the thin Medibay blanket. None of his Occlumency and self-control could save him.

In horror, he watched as she had turned to look at the wound which sliced him from collarbone to pelvis, a gift from someone who had clearly wanted him to stay dead, her gaze nearing the point of no return. Severus had snapped.

He hadn't _quite _called her a Mudblood, but only because his throat lay in ruins about him.

Instead, his nonverbal, wandless rage had funneled through him and into her, throwing her like a ragdoll across the room, casting open the door, and sticking her like a bug onto the corridor wall, the words '_and stay out'_ painted in big bold letters above her head.

He had never forgiven himself.

How could he?

He had spent his entire life trying not to become his father and yet here he was, bullying the first woman he saw.

He had refused treatment after that, limping his way out of Hogwarts and abusing the fact that he was still acknowledged by the wards to apparate home to die.

Unfortunately Miss Granger's spellwork held and he did not die. Draco stomached Severus' fury only a few times a week, but each time he brought plate after plate of _statised_, elf-made food and eventually Severus began eating again.

He had sent an apology to Ms Granger with some flowers. Well, Potions ingredients made up of flowers, of course. He wasn't a romantic. She had not responded. He didn't blame her.

Yet here she stood, far more flesh than the skin and bones he remembered after the final battle.

He could just hear her conversation with Minerva like a low buzz of static at the edge of his awareness, and he tuned in, shocked that he had allowed his memories to suck him in when he could have been listening.

"No, I'm just glad to be back. A moment away from all that chaos."

"I can imagine."

Minerva and Hermione shared a look that thrummed with affection, and Severus averted his eyes. He didn't need the painful squeeze around his chest to remind him that nobody except his Eri had ever wanted him to be there. Hell, given that she was always asleep, perhaps not even she.

The thoughts twisted his face into ever deeper grooves, and the poor table almost started smouldering under the weight of that gaze.

"Hello Professor Snape."

Hermione's cheerful voice broke through Severus' thoughts like a sunrise, and he squinted up against her happiness.

"Miss… Granger?"

"Minerva invited me to conduct a quick evaluation interview with you today." She leaned forward over the sausages, her smile intimate if hesitant. "I don't see why they're having you examined, personally, but then I've known you for a long time." Severus frowned, his mind trying to dissect what she had said - because the words must be hurtful, surely. Nobody had smiled like that at Severus for a long time, not when they meant it. Before he could make his mind up to be offended, she'd continued talking. "So this is really just a formality."

_Just a formality_.

Still, she was here, she was talking to him. It was more desired social interaction than he'd had in months, and suddenly he was as flustered as a teenager talking to a pretty girl.

Resolutely, he kept his mouth shut and inclined his head. He would **not** make a fool of himself.

At the gesture, Hermione pulled back. The veneer of formality iced between them, and Severus was rather desperate to pull it away. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but distance clouded her eyes as she turned back to Minerva, discussing the school and its repairs.

Severus felt his skin itch with how much he wanted Hermione's attention back on him.

He needed to apologise for that awful display of anger five years ago, if nothing else. When she'd scorned his thoughtful Potions bouquet he'd been furious, but now, staring at her beautiful form, he could allow that _it_ had been insufficient, not she. He'd risked her life, and by way of apology sent her flowers - with no note! Had he done that to any other witch in Britain he'd have been hauled in front of the court of the Daily Prophet and every gossip in Diagon Alley, if nothing else, but nobody seemed to know what he'd done.

As soon as he was alone with her he'd apologise. He needed to. Her laugh tinkled in his ears as he swore it to himself. This interview may well be a blessing in disguise.


	3. Chapter 3: Interview

"As I said, this is just a formality." Her smile was gone, hidden behind the layers of professionalism and placid calm that she was projecting almost forcefully over their meeting. Her hands shook as she patted the parchment into a respectably neat square and placed a quill balanced over it. "But, before we begin, do you have any questions?"

Severus cleared his throat. "I, ah… I actually wanted to apologise to you, Miss Granger." Her head tilted, setting waves of brown curls battering against one another. He swallowed. "I was incredibly rude to you that night in the Medical Wing."

"Oh, that!" The smile that broke through the ice was one of pure joy and cheerfulness. "No need to apologise-"

"I wasn't done." He cursed himself silently when she deflated, but he really needed to get this out into the open. "I was embarrassed, angry and honestly still very much worked up from the events of that night, and I channelled all of that against you. I had no right to do so, and I sincerely feel sorry that I ever used magic against you."

She swallowed, her fingers playing with a thin metal necklace around her neck, and then she smiled again. This one was less the generous joy of the sunrise, more a gentle hearthfire warmth, and Severus could feel himself melting into it. With an effort, he kept his back straight and his shoulders squared.

"Thank you, then. But I didn't blame you. You must have been out of your mind with pain, and you had taken a combination of potions that I deemed… unwise, given that we had no idea what else you may have prepared yourself with. I know you to be a rational man, even in your rage - you were always in control. I knew it was not you."

"Then why did you refuse my apology?"

The words slipped out without Severus' permission, and he swore silently again. His damned lips were trying to get him to look the fool, and his heart was no help. It hadn't stopped beating like a drum since they'd sat down in this small room and their knees had brushed against one another under the cramped table.

"Your apology?" She frowned, the lines on her forehead somehow endearing to Severus. He fought the urge to shake his head free from such thoughts.

"I sent you a bouquet of… herbs."

Although her eyes rested on him for several long seconds, he could tell that she was searching her memories. He saw the moment she found it by the way her eyes hardened and her mouth pursed.

"The ingredients to a muscle relaxant, with a small jar of pixie laughter hanging from the ribbon."

Her rage bubbling underneath her words gave him pause. "...Yes?"

"I'm going to kill him." She stared at him, her jaw clenched, for a few moments more. "Ronald must have intercepted them. He handed them to me on his way home from work. I thought it was a rather more romantic gesture than normal, given that he usually forgot I existed. That _bastard_."

Severus gulped. She'd thought it was _romantic_? Who in Britain would think receiving a bouquet of ingredients _romantic_?

His Eri had gone completely insane.

But still there was something warm in his chest at the thought that Hermione found his bouquet romantic. As a gift from a paramour, but still.

Still.

Her preoccupation gave him a few moments to study her, the way her hair tumbled free of the binds she attempted to place on it to frame her face, cascading down her shoulders.

Severus coughed.

"Oh, right. Sorry, yes, we're here for a reason."

He could feel his eyebrow twitching, but with a manful struggle he kept it firmly in place. He didn't want to terrify the girl, not if they were going to strike up a friendly relationship of a sort.

With a wave of her hand she released the quill, which shuddered in its eagerness to begin taking notes, beads of ink gathering at the tip.

"So, Professor Snape," she said, tearing his focus back to those chocolate eyes. "Tell me a little about your teaching style."

The interview took a little over two hours all told. The questions were by turns infantile and insulting, but the presence of Miss Granger - and the way her facial muscles struggled not to scowl as she read the next question - kept him from stalking from the room. She seemed to be rather delightfully on his side, which was a new phenomenon for Severus. He could only hope she was _actually_ on his side, that this wasn't some kind of scheme to have him removed from his position.

He'd take the damned mirror with him and break it into a million pieces, if she turned out to be a liar.

Alone in his chamber, the fog that had seemed to overtake his brain cleared a little. Eri had never moved before, and it seemed unlikely that the Mirror would suddenly reveal her face to him: and so soon before she visited? Unlikely to be a coincidence.

Had someone charmed the mirror to reflect her face?

The thought was like swallowing ice, but Severus was a practical man, used to the many hardships and trials that life had to offer. He wasn't going to pretend it wasn't a possibility.

That would mean, though, that someone knew about his late night walks to the Room of Requirement, that someone had followed him there enough times to know it was a habit, somehow spied on his activities, gone in after - or before - him, and cast a spell on one of the most powerful artifacts in Britain. It seemed… unlikely at best.

For one thing, he'd been there when the Headmaster had hidden the Philosopher's Stone so many years ago, the multiple times the spell failed to hold, the way it had taken three of them - Albus, Minerva, himself - to finally get the charm to stick to the frame. His magic had felt like it was coercing the mirror, flattering it, persuading it - rather than forcing its way inside.

There was no-one still alive who could cast even a rudimentary trickery spell over that mirror. Not alone. So either he was looking at a conspiracy, the vision had been a fluke brought on by relief, he had been drugged or spelled himself, or…

Or the mirror had been waiting until after the war to show her face, waiting until she was no longer a student. Because he could never want a student, so at that point in time she couldn't have been his true heart's desire.

But now…

His knuckles creaked at the strain he was putting them under, squeezing fists around his office desk, and he abruptly stood up. He would have to go to Eri to be sure. If she was still Miss Granger, and he could detect no spells on the surface of the mirror, then he would have to…

Have to what? Tell Miss Granger that she was his heart's desire, and therefore that she must move in with him posthaste? The woman would slap him, think he'd gone mad.

Severus wasn't entirely sure he hadn't gone mad.

Alright, so he didn't have a plan for what to do if the mirror wasn't lying **but** he could at least figure out whether it was true or not.

With a muttered curse word he swept from his office and devoured the corridors between himself and the mirror, the stone flags a blur beneath his feet.

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**AN: **Thank you ever so much for all your interest in my humble musings! I do hope you are continuing to enjoy the story!


	4. Chapter 4: The Real Thing

Severus was still charging through the corridors towards Eri, his robe snapping at his heels, when a voice broke his concentration.

"Severus?" It was Minerva, a wrinkled hand held out to him. "Has something… happened?"

"Everything is fine." He drew himself up to his full height, his expression solidifying into disdain.

"Come to my quarters, have a tipple." She smiled, adjusting the tartan blanket around her shoulders. "I always find it a bit tricky to sleep with the students arriving soon. I keep thinking of all the things that might go wrong, and the worries just circle in my head like vultures. It'll do us both some good to have some company."

Severus looked behind him, towards the Room of Requirement, where he knew the mirror waited, and felt the prickle of anticipation work its way up his spine. Minerva was his boss - and more than that, she was trying to be friendly. As much as his skin itched to be alone, with her… the mirror wasn't going to move. He would be back later.

Surprisingly, and rather shamefully, this was the first time Severus had been inside the Head Mistress' quarters since she'd taken over the position. He'd suspected it would be all garishly red and gold, a true eyesore, but it was surprisingly dull - a forest green and crimson tartan blanket stretched out over a brown sofa, elements of blue and yellow picked out around the room in pops of colour. For a moment, Severus' eyes were glued to the writing desk, where there was no house emblem above her desk, for the first time in Severus couldn't count how many years.

She smirked at his expression. "I rather think a Head should be independent of all that House rubbish. Dumbledore, bless him," her features softened into a fond smile, "I think that was one of his greatest failings. He put House above person, above his position."

Severus reflexively checked that Dumbledore wasn't listening - but the portrait snored peacefully.

"It looks good," he cleared his throat, painfully aware of how awkward he sounded. "Cozy."

"I try." She waved him in the direction of the sofa, bringing out two crystal glasses from an understated brown cabinet in the corner. She carried a large glass bottle out, next, and poured a healthy amount of amber liquid into both. "I must admit, I hate the taste of alcohol once someone's used magic to carry it. Food, too. There's a reason elf-made wine wins every time."

The logo made Severus start, suddenly uneasy. Lucius had been fond of quoting that, too, though his politics were very different from Minerva's own. The hair on the back of his head seemed to stand to attention as his mind quickly and carefully ran through all the possibilities. Coincidence, an attempt to trick him, a flag that she knew Lucius - could she be acting in his interests?

"Is it anything you want to talk about?" Her brogue cut through his panicked thoughts and dragged him back to the present.

In an effort to keep himself calm - and sane - Severus picked up the heavy glass and swirled the liquid. It smelt divine, of comfort and growing up too fast and heady summer nights. "No."

"Well," she stared at him for a few moments, and Severus wondered uneasily if the Headmaster's skills of legimancy had transferred down to her. "Not to worry. I'm sure it will sort itself out." The reassurance was clumsy on her tongue. He wondered whether she might be remembering the way she wielded her wand at him, sharpening her tongue as he tried to save the students from the madness that descended around them, cursing him for a traitor.

He put the glass down, uncomfortable underneath his many buttons. They pulled tightly at his throat and he swallowed, feeling trapped.

"Headmistress?" a shout through the Floo. Severus recognised the voice subconsciously and fair flew through the room to the fireplace, all his senses prickling.

"Hermione? What is?"

"Oh, Severus! Thank goodness you're there." The stress in her voice chased away any joy those words could have brought - Severus filed them away to come back to later, once the danger had passed. "I… Can I come through?"

"Of course," Minerva said, fetching another glass.

Hermione tumbled through the flames, looking for all the world like she'd been dragged out of bed. Her hair, which had been so stylishly arranged yesterday, was once more wild about her head, matted and unbrushed. Her clothes - jeans and a t-shirt - were wrinkled. Her eyes were wild, and pink.

"Did he do it again?" Minerva asked. Mutely, Hermione nodded, biting at her lip. "There, there now. Drink this."

Severus felt a rage growing from deep inside his stomach, a ball of anger and fire that anyone would bring Hermione - the confident, gentle, helpful Hermione - to the edge of tears. "What is going on?" he demanded, each word sharply defined.

Minerva looked at Hermione, who was gulping down the strong liquid, and squeezed her hand. "Hermione's boss is having some difficulty-"

"Martin is a sexist pig who needs to have his testicles surgically removed." Hermione interrupted. "He seems to think I'll be ready and willing to work hard, no matter what time it is. And it's true, to a point, but then he steals any ideas I have and I'm-" she wilted. "just. so. done."

"I've told you before, there is always a job here for you."

"I know," Hermione wiped a hand down her face. "And that's very sweet of you. But I… I need this job. It makes me feel as though I can make a difference."

"What exactly is it that you do?" Severus' rage had subsided now that Hermione was talking, although he still wanted to wrap her in his robe and protect her, coddle her away. She wouldn't want that, though. She'd want him to stay as far away from her as humanly possible.

"I'm in charge of education reform." She took a shuddering breath, and Severus realised he'd taken several steps back towards the sofa, was brushing the back of it with his long fingertips, and froze in place. Hermione's voice had faded, and she seemed lost in though, oblivious to Severus standing right behind her shoulder.

"Go on," he drawled. A shudder chased through Hermione's shoulders as she dragged herself back to the present, and Severus took a step to the side, suddenly realising he'd been subconciously behaving as a professor would, looming, demanding obedience. Not the best way to start a friendship.

"I was leading an initiative to have more options than just Hogwarts. It's a beautiful school, but not all children can leave their parents for extended periods of time. We were experimenting with home studies for most of the subjects, and doing much smaller, focused groups for children with learning difficulties or special needs. But then Martin-" her jaw clenched. "He stole it and he ruined it. He wants to market it as a way to keep the purebloods separated. I only just found out when he passed me his notes to distribute before the meeting tomorrow. He's taken my data and he's going to use it-"

She deflated, as though the words had been the helium keeping her upright. Cautiously, Severus extended a hand and squeezed her shoulder, half jumping backwards at the feel of how tense she was underneath his hand.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought department business-" Hermione shook herself. "This doesn't affect my report on your fitness to teach. There were no complaints around the interview. I know you must have better things to be doing with your time."

When she smiled up at him, those brown eyes swimming in pink, his heart crackled. "No, it's… acceptable. And it seems to have helped you to… vent."

Her pink eyes crinkled at the corners in something half-resembling a determined smile. Suddenly his skin itched all over. Half of him wanted to go to her, to hold her, comfort her with his skin against her own, show how much he cared. The feeling was overwhelming, crackling across his skin like an electric shock, singing the hair on his arms. He knew that to do so would be to be rejected, to force Hermione into something she didn't want - and the thought repulsed him.

Suddenly, he needed to be somewhere he was wanted, where he knew what the other person would do - this was too much, far too much.

Severus swung abruptly towards the door, his robes swirling around him as he threw words over his shoulder. "I will leave you both now. Thank you, Minerva, for the drink. Miss Granger."

With an awkward nod he was back in the corridor, marching his way to the Room of Requirement, those magical doors that would give him exactly what he needed. Cursing himself for a fool.

Hermione might be real, but what he needed was an evening with Eri. Predictable, trusting, open Eri.

He wrenched the doors open, but the room was bone cold and nearly empty - no armchair, no book, no tea.

The mirror was still there, though, and that was all that mattered. He found himself kneeling down before it like a supplicant, begging, pleading for it to show him what he needed.

Eri was there, her curls dangling over her shoulders, a book slipping from her grasp. _His_ Eri, in a way that Hermione was not. In a way that nobody could ever be.

And yet… there was something missing. Miss Granger had far more energy, far more _life_ in her than this pale reflection did. He had never heard Eri's voice, whilst he could never seem to keep Hermione from speaking.

It was… It was like a book without its middle pages, like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces.

Curses and damnation. This wasn't fair. He'd finally achieved a degree of happiness, a degree of… of contentment. His life with Eri wasn't much, but it had been the closest to acceptance Severus had ever been and she'd become his everything, and now… It felt as though she'd been torn away from him, even while she lay there, breathing in the soft afternoon light, a book on her lap.

He knew without needing to test it that the enchantment of the Mirror was over. He didn't want the mirror, he didn't want this shallow Eri. He wanted his beautiful, lively, happy Eri, even if she could never want him back. He wanted Miss Granger's tears, and career struggles, and the messy reality that came with her and her miserable two best friends. He wanted something _real_.

But he could never hope to have with Hermione what he'd shared with Eri. She was young, innocent, powerful. In comparison, Severus was washed-up, a has-been. Hell, he'd even stopped bothering to contribute to the Potions field, knowing that his name alone would bar his research. The few vials he worked on at home were for his own problems - and why would Hermione want a selfish, used up, traitorous man when she had turned down any number of cretins.

Maybe she was gay. Or asexual. Or just. not. interested.

Severus' hands curled into fists at his side and he smashed his forehead into the carpet, groaning. Months and years stretched before him, empty, emotionless years, with only his tense friendship with Minerva and the grudging, wine-soaked conversations with Dumbledore's portrait to look forward to. No more sitting, reading with Eri, trusted and trusting. Without this balm, was life worth living? What had he survived for, suffered for, for all these years? He'd fought and suffered for years, knowing that he would die, only to have a happy ending thrust into his lap. She'd been more than enough for him, more than he deserved, and now she'd been wrenched away.

But no - he'd survived without Eri before, in those lonely years before Minerva's letter. He'd kept himself away, renounced the habit. He'd been… content. He could still be content. Couldn't he?

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**AN: **Thank you very much for all the cookies and support!


	5. Chapter 5: A New Start?

Morning came in a subtle change of the air, a greying of deep shadows. Severus considered ignoring it, turning onto his side and childishly pulling the duvet up to his chin, revelling in a rest. But he was nothing if not disciplined.

The floor was cold underneath his feet, as it always was. He never bothered to use a heating charm, took his punishment. He deserved to be locked down here, where he couldn't harm anyone else. Wasn't that why Slytherins were housed in the dungeons?

Methodically he did up the buttons along his long jacket, and with each one felt his needs shrink against his skin. This ritual was important to him - it gave a chance to reflect on who he wanted or needed to be, separate from the impulses that seemed to control everyone around him. Today was the day the students would arrive back at Hogwarts, their schedules carefully compiled to avoid the areas of the castle damaged during his disastrous term as Headmaster. Scars that would never truly fade, no matter how many years had gone by. The staircases there were volatile, angry, and Minerva wouldn't trust them to shepherd the children.

Severus brushed his fingers against the wall in silent apology.

With the students coming back, Severus needed to be stern, controlled, almost harsh. He needed to show them that he was not cowed, that despite what they'd read in the newspapers he was to be treated with respect. Without that, he would be unable to control them, and anything might happen in the classroom.

His fingers paused as they worked on his cuff. If something were to happen - one of the students complain, or explode a cauldron - would Hermione be blamed? Miss Granger was the one who had signed off on his ability to teach, after all.

Even more important, then, that he take control of the situation. Of the students. Of himself.

It was a good plan, but the problem quickly became apparent.

He was stalking downstairs - this would be the last breakfast student free - when he saw her bushy hair disappearing behind the corner in front of him, the smell of her - lavender and honey - drifting by on the breeze. He'd tortured himself so much with Eri, that now his connection with the mirror was broken, his mind was too. Which would not do.

As he methodically ate his toast - smeared with butter that he just as quickly smeared away - he could hear Hermione's laughter, a sound full of bitter joy. Between the crunches of his toast, he imagined he could hear her voice echoing down the halls and spilling into the Great Hall.

Was this a sign that he was finally giving in to madness? Surely nobody else was haunted in such a way by ghosts of the living? The castle was empty, for Merlin's sake.

And then the door opened, and there she was - arm in arm with Minerva, their heads bent together like gossiping teenagers.

"Oh, good morning, Severus!" Minerva said drily, taking up her place beside him. Hermione offered him a small smile and a wave of the fingers.

"Morning."

At least he wasn't losing control of his mind, as well as his heart. The relief was palpable, but Severus didn't allow himself to show any of it.

"Hermione just popped in for a bit of motivation before work, giving her some tips on dealing with overbearing bosses."

Severus stopped mid-crunch and removed the slice of toast from between his teeth. "Me, Minerva?" His tone was… well, he was aiming for airy. Unaffected. Punched with sarcasm.

"I hope I don't offend you if I say that I do not count the year you spent attempting to protect the school from Ministry appointed Death Eaters as having an _overbearing boss_." Severus noted that she did dry humour surprisingly well. "No, dear, I meant Dumbledore. Genius of tactics, of course, brilliant general, brought us through the war. Terribly overbearing though. Couldn't bear to share credit with anyone, which lead to a natural micromanagement. Plus the reckless treatment of children."

Severus found himself wondering how close they would have been had he not been convinced she was Gryffindor's cheerleader all those years they'd taught together.

"I see. Well, if you need any further instruction," here he turned to Hermione, nodding his head. His tongue felt awkward in his mouth, too large. "I am at your service."

Her returning grin was almost a surprise, a splash of water. "That might be… perfect, actually!"

Immediately Hermione and Minerva bent their heads together and began plotting. Severus, ignored and mostly forgotten, shrugged. He could at least use the time to drink in darting glances of her face. It was so animated with emotion he could almost follow the conversation - here she furrowed her brow and bit her lip, staring at an intermediate distance as though the problem lay there, and then the next moment a sly, spite-filled smirk flooded her lips, a twinkle in her eyes of trouble and joy.

Whatever they were planning, he should hope it didn't include him. He had the students to manage today, after all, and keeping them alive was enough of a job on its own. Binns was wittering on the other side of Severus, something about a change to the schedule that meant he had to go up five more flights of stairs.

There was a shreik of chairs against the stone floor as Minerva stood up. "I'm terribly sorry, but I want to check up on the Lake before the students arrive, make sure Hagrid has the thestrals fed, ensure the wards are open at both Platform 9¾ and at the grounds…" she trailed off, suddenly looking harried.

"I can help you, if you like?" Severus drawled. "I have of course to prepare my classroom, but-"

"No, no, that's alright. I'd much rather do it myself. Will you keep Hermione company instead?"

Severus choked on a crumb. "Yes," he managed to gasp out, trying desperately not to blush scarlet. Did Minerva _know_? Did they both? Feeling rushed out of him, leaving him cold and shaky. Were they mocking him?

"So…" Hermione began. "You need any help preparing the classroom? I have an hour to kill before work, I may as well make myself useful."

Severus paused. He certainly wouldn't mind more time with the witch, even if it meant he would be constantly embarrassing himself and driving her away with his awkward, adolescent experience. Perhaps she'd grow to think of him as she clearly thought of Minerva - a friend, a confident. A former teacher.

The thought twisted Severus' lips into a sneer. He was disgusting.

"Or… not." Hermione said, reacting to his expression. "If there's something else you'd prefer to do?"

"Of course, if you desire to spend even more of your life scrubbing work benches in the Potion's Lab, who am I to prevent you?"

He caught the smile of victory flush across her face. "You know I've always been one of the best bench scrubbers you've ever had."

For reasons Severus didn't understand, the blush rose again to colour his cheeks. Luckily nobody else could see him - not Binns to his left or Hooch on Hermione's other side. They'd formed a sort of bubble, outside of which roared the real world.f

Then a thought occurred. "You've always been ambitious."

"Well, of course. I come from the Muggle world, remember? Imagine if that was all you knew, it's only natural you'd feel you needed to… to live and breath magic, to make sure it was never taken away from you."

Severus didn't need to imagine. His childhood had been drab and sad, his mother smothering any magic that showed around the house. Until his letter, Severus had believed his father and his classmates, had known he was a freak. Even Lily hadn't known.

"Then why aren't you in Slytherin?"

Hermione caught her breath as though to argue the point, then deflated before his eyes, a frown creasing a line across her forehead. "I… I'm not sure. The hat did at first suggest Slytherin - but Hogwarts: A History had several sections detailing the treatment of Muggleborns there. The idea wasn't exactly promising." Severus discovered that when she was thinking through an idea, she curled a piece of her hair around a finger ceaselessly, twirling it tighter and tighter. "It thought Ravenclaw might be a good idea, too, but I was never one for studying for studying's sake. I need what I know to have an application, you know? A use. It was why I gave up on Divination rather quickly - I'd figured out that there was no real way of verifying leaves in teacups or smoke in a crystal ball. Potions - it works or it doesn't. Same with Arithmancy." Her lips twisted. "In the end, I think it chose Gryffindor because of how scared I was that day."

"Scared?"

"I was convinced I wasn't going to find a magical school at the other end of a brick wall." Her eyes flicked up to his, glimmering with humour. "That I hadn't studied hard enough, that I would never fit in. I wasn't exactly popular at Muggle School, but at least I knew some people."

"So how does that lead to Gryffindor?"

She leaned in, a smudge of jam unnoticed on her cheek. "Well, I was scared stiffless. I thought nobody would believe I was any good at magic, and I was terrified of going back to that world. Back to being nothing special, you know? A freak." Severus jolted at the similarities of their thoughts. "But I still came. I got onto the train at King's Cross, I spoke to people on the train. I screwed up everything I had and I ran headlong into the problem."

"But everyone comes."

"No." Hermione sighed, shifting her hair out of her face with both hands. The jam sparkled merrily in the candlelight. "That's just it. They don't. Not because they're not brave enough, not always, but Hogwarts is expensive. Wands are expensive. Not everybody can leave home for that reason alone - ignoring all the children with different needs. Those caring for a parent who is sick, or a sibling. Those whose parents don't want to give up their dreams of having a doctor, or are too controlling to let go - or are just scared. Or the kids are scared."

Her face was flushed with passion, the idea of all those children who were left behind. Severus had heard a fragment of this project last night, but he hadn't understood.

"How would you afford a Potion's Master per district?"

Hermione looked at him, guarded. "Well, that's just the thing. If we're doing directed studies in smaller groups, would it need to be a Potion's Master? Couldn't a Potion's Master set the curriculum, but then have a previous graduate manage the classes?"

Severus frowned. "Accidents are hard to manage in the Potion's classroom, Miss Granger. A moment of thoughtlessness can lead to poisoning the children and their hapless teacher."

"Then, let's think of a less lethal subject to start with."

"Which? Flying? Herbology? Care of Magical Creatures? Perhaps we should have them stick to Divination."

Hermione threw her hair back from her face and glared at him. "Surely, Professor, you can't be claiming that no graduate of Hogwarts would be able to manage and supervise a small group of children learning how to cast Expelliarmus or avoid a Cornish Pixie? Or perhaps you _are_ saying that only in Hogwarts would such violence be permitted?"

They stared at each other, the plates of food before them forgotten. When Hermione spoke again, her voice was cold, each word bitten off. "I would thank you to believe that I have done my research - that more than that, I have conducted tests and studies. I have crafted a timetable to cover everything we learnt in first year with minimal risk to life and limb. I am not simply letting Witches and Wizards have at it."

"I didn't mean-"

"To question my ability to do my job?"

They sat in silence, her glare soulless, all the passion and interest that had filled her up fading away. She stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. "I have to go. I have some errands to run before work. Good day, Severus."

"Hermione-"

But she was marching down the Great Hall, and Severus choked back the rest of his sentence. He didn't want the other teachers to see him begging her to come back, begging her forgiveness, explaining that, despite how it sounded, that hadn't been what he meant.

Instead Severus stared at her as Hermione retreated out of the Great Hall, her hair wafting in the breeze behind her, cursing himself silently for an incompetent, insufferable fool.

Then he threw down his napkin, swept up a cup of tea, and stalked towards the Room of Requirement. If he was going to be anything near calm enough to teach, he needed to see Eri first.

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Hopefully you are all still enjoying the story!


	6. Chapter 6: Plots and Plans

**AN - I am terribly sorry about the delay. Not had the best time IRL + no motivation to write has lead to more time between updates than usual. I hope you won't mind if I'm not militant about the "every weekend update" for a month while things _settle down_ (if they ever do!) . I also struggled with releasing this because I want this story to be good, not just present, and I can't tell if it's good because it's mine...**

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The students kept Severus plenty busy, forcing him to give up long chunks of Eri time to stalk the hallways, ousting reunited lovers from crannies and corners up and down Hogwarts. He shuddered to think if these little crooks were ever even cleaned - judging by the dust on one particular couple he could guess _not_. Were the little blighters so wrapped up in each other that they didn't even think of germs before they embraced?

And honestly - most of them were same-house couples. Couldn't they just… find a sofa in the Common Room, instead of subjecting his eyes to their flailing limbs and blushing faces.

The lack of sleep, naturally, lead to a nasty tension headache that had followed him around in the bunched muscles of his neck since his disastrous breakfast on Monday, Hermione's glacial gaze haunting him every time he relaxed an inch. Even sleeping appeared dangerous - he dreamt of Eri, but she always morphed slowly into Hermione, her eyes slitting as she stirred and awoke, unable to tear his eyes away as she realised exactly who she was sharing that library with.

He woke up on Wednesday morning in a cold sweat, his hands already reaching for his cloak, desperate to get to Eri and make sure everything was still alright between them.

Which was ridiculous. His fingers stilled, curled around a button. Eri wasn't real - she was a facade, an illusion created by a mirror based on his very real loneliness. She wouldn't just turn her back on him, misunderstand wilfully like a certain Gryffindor cretin he knew.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, his fingers started moving again. Severus Snape had never had any luck with clever Gryffindors, not as a boy and certainly not as a man. He admired them, on the whole - Minerva, Hermione, Lily - admired their talent and power. He was drawn to intelligence and wit, and that shining need to take care of and look past flaws. Perhaps it was because he thought they might eventually be persuaded to ignore his own past, his own flaws.

Severus scoffed and shook his head, long strands of black hair falling forward to hide his face as he did so. He had better things to worry about - like the latest suicidal student, Henry McDuffin, who had tried to mix horse blood with a Burn Salve and ended up near blowing his own fingers off - succeeding in removing his Ravenclaw partner's eyebrows in the process.

If he hadn't known Eri was back in the castle waiting for him, he wasn't sure he would have come back.

No, that was nonsense. He'd come back because, living in that shithole, he'd started to go slowly mad. Severus was a man who needed a purpose, who defined himself by it, and without Harry Potter to keep alive and breathing, hated by all those who'd looked up to him and despised by everyone else, he'd… he'd suffered.

"Clearly," he snarled at his reflection as he squeezed toothpaste out onto his threadbare toothbrush, "you _had_ gone mad - or did you really think spending your days dodging McDuffin's experiments was going to help you live a long and uneventful life?"

Running his wand over his face to remove the stubble - he never did get the hang of the Muggle razor, and he didn't have time for it anyway. Who cared if it irritated the skin less or felt better? Who was going to touch him?

Mired in his thoughts Severus stalked out of his room and up to the Great Hall.

"Oh, there you are! Severus!" McGonagall's voice startled the one or two early rising students, who blinked around to stare at Severus like cows chewing the cud. Next to the sparkling, very awake Minerva was… a bushy haired, innocently beaming Hermione.

Severus paused mid-step, his foot hovering over the floor, as though he thought he still had time to wish her away, or Apparate, or something. Anything.

"Minera. Miss Granger." He nodded, whirled on one foot, and marched rapidly back down towards the dungeons. There was nothing he wanted to do less than spend time embarrassing himself in front of Hermione… again.

"Severus-" He could hear heels trotting after him, clicking against the stone tiles purposefully. For a few paces he continued on, fuelled by his own fear, and then realised how utterly foolish he looked and obligingly came to a halt.

Hermione barrelled into the back of his cloak, and nearly brought them both down.

"Dammit, really?" She pushed away from him, smoothing down the front of her cloak, and Severus' heart plummeted. If she was going to blame him- "Are you alright, Severus?"

"It's Professor Snape," he added, relishing in being childish for once. In denying her something just to prove he still had the backbone.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I was a grown woman. Am I taking remedial Potions?" The arch of her eyebrow, the tapping of her hand against her thigh - Severus could do nothing more than melt.

"I'm fine, _Hermione_."

"There, see. Perfect. Let's go grab breakfast - I have to get to work but Minerva said she might finally have an idea." Almost before she'd finished the thought, Hermione was gone, clipping back down the hall. Severus allowed himself a brief moment to admire her - even with the robe distorting her figure she was a marvellous thing to behold, like a spotlight made flesh, all focus and drive.

"So, why did you want me here?" Severus asked, spreading margarine on his toast and refusing to glance at Hermione, to his left. It meant he could only look at Minerva - to his right - or the students dead ahead, but it would save them both from being the targets of gossip. He did not want any of the miscreants that roamed the school getting even an inclining of his obsession with Eri.

"You have a good eye for detail. If this idea spins into a plan… lets just say I want you on side, looking out for anything that could come back to bite us. And besides, you're a wizard at Potions."

Severus ducked his head to hide the crease of pink spreading across his cheeks, and focused his mind on the toast. The crunch as he bit into it, the taste, the roughness against his tongue…. It wasn't enough to keep his mind from dwelling on the compliment. _A good eye for detail_.

"And why am _I_ here?" Professor Septima Vector leaned around Hermione to grab for the metal teapot full of bitter hot chocolate. She'd been half-hidden by Hermione's mess of curls, and since Severus was denying himself the pleasure of glancing in that direction, Vector had gone completely unnoticed.

"Well if you let me begin explaining my plan-" Minerva complained, only to be interrupted by Vector.

"Also, you know, I've never noticed this before, but isn't the staff table an odd… formation? I suppose it does focus our attention on the students, but it makes it almost impossible for, say, the four of us to actually have a conversation. After all, if I can't see you, how do I know when you're about to start talking? I'll come up with some designs, if you like, that'll allow us to still keep an eye on the students but also-"

"Enough!" Minerva's voice had tipped into shrill with her frustrated amusement and Severus winced, covering up the ear in her direction gingerly. "Now, how about you let me speak? All of you!"

Severus saw Peeves in the corner of his eye preparing some mischief for Hermione, but before he had chance to open his mouth and warn any of the group, Minerva's wand shot out and sent the poltergeist corkscrewing away.

"Honestly, why don't you just get rid-" Hermione seemed to realise she was talking only after her mouth started moving, her eyes bulging from her face as she snapped her jaw shut. Severus realised, bashfully and too late, that he'd been staring, and turned resolutely towards the food once more.

"Here," Minerva said, her hands trembling as she dropped jam into her porridge. "I wondered if we might have a demonstration of a few of the potential first year curriculum."

"My subject is hardly simple-" Vector began. Minerva held up her hand, and flashed warning eyes across the group towards her. Severus bit his lip so that he wouldn't join in - after all, it wasn't like Potions was a walk in the park either.

"One of those subjects will be Potions. I will set together a Transfiguration demonstration. I can probably do a simple Charms one too - it'll only be the first lesson, so it won't take up too much of my time."

"I can do that, if you'd rather." Hermione butted in. Severus smirked, amazed that he'd been perfectly correct that Hermione wouldn't be able to keep silent for long.

"No, because you'll be making sure that there are plenty of higher ups from your department there to witness the demonstration. And no children! That part is very important. If there are children present, the plan won't work. Too disruptive. It needs to be only the higher ups and the presenter, gives your boss a reason to steal the reigns."

"But…" Hermione chewed her lip. "Why would we _want_ to give Martin more glory? I don't understand…"

"Well, that's where Severus and Vector come in!" Minerva smiled benevolently down at the students before them, her voice laced in acid as she continued to speak. "We'll finally teach that overstuffed buffoon what's good for him."


	7. Chapter 7: Wheels Turning

Severus Snape set down his razor on the side of the sink and stared at himself. Cuts, everywhere, little nicks and scrapes across the jaw line like someone marked hidden treasure. The thought made him grin - the hidden treasure beneath these little red lines was only crooked teeth and dark magic. His smile faded as he continued to study himself. The severe lines of his face were angular, bony in the dim light of the ensuite bathroom and tired besides. He'd needed to think, to focus, and he did that best late at night, stalking the halls or pacing back and forth before Eri.

He sighed, and with a wave of his hand healed the cuts, grimacing as the skin pinched together for that second of pain. Pure vanity.

But Hermione was coming in tonight after supper to practice, and Severus wanted to look nice. Presentable.

After all, this was going to be the one of the last times she would see him for quite a while. Once the project was approved - and Severus was under little doubt she'd charm the senior members of the education committee just as easily as she charmed everybody else, if by charm you meant overwhelm them with recited facts and strong-willed enthusiasm - there would be little need for the bushy haired beauty to visit Hogwarts, and even less to seek out the Potions Master.

He shook his head and turned away from the mirror in disgust. He really was acting like a moping, teenage boy, and it had to stop.

The meals, the classes, the corridors - everything in his day bleared into one long smudge as his mind chugged away, trying to find a potion worth of Hermione's demonstration. It had to be something simple enough that it wouldn't explode or poison anyone even if the measurements were made incorrectly or it was left boiling for too long or short a period - such was a standard requirement of any first year class, and for Hermione's experiments in unqualified teachers it was even more important.

At the same time, the potion had to be embarrassing to get wrong. A cloud of red smoke wouldn't mean much to the viewers - Severus had never found Ministry employees to be particularly bright, Eri being the exception. Turning the demonstrator into a pig or a frog wouldn't be too hard, but required more complicated potions.

Severus was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed Henry McDuffin throw something up into the air, slice it on the downward arc with his knife, and gape in horror as the shorn half tumbled away from him and into the cauldron.

He was just awake enough to witness Henry completely fail to catch it (after three comical grabs, and at one point a bounce off his wrist) and upset the cauldron. Severus' instincts, dulled by months of peacetime, lack of food and sleep, and his preoccupation, only managed to shield half of the room - the half that Severus himself was in. The concoction - because Severus would never stoop to calling something born of chaos a potion - bled across the floor as fast as Mercury, but the students leapt aside and nobody was touched.

Nobody, of course, except poor Henry, whose skin was turning a fantastic shade of pink.

"50 points from Ravenclaw for gross incompetence, McDuffin," snarled Severus, his rage overtaking his fatigue. "And 50 from Hufflepuff for doing nothing to stop this madness."

McDuffin's table partner, Elsie Mild, opened her mouth to complain - and then bit her tongue. McDuffin's skin brightened in tone until he was a hot pink a Barbie would have been proud of - quite bright enough to start a headache brewing in Severus' forehead.

Then the colour thickened, and blue swirled down from McDuffin's head, casting clouds of purple like ink across his neck and hands.

Severus thought.

"Out," he growled. "Not you, McDuffin. Stay where you are."

"Sir-" McDuffin looked around him, still sprawled half in the puddle of failed burn salve. "I'm really sorry."

"Save it. Your gross incompetence inspires in me the idea that the Sorting Hat may, in fact, finally need to be put out of its misery. Where in Ravenclaw did you get the idea that horsing around in Potions was a good idea?"

Pouting, McDuffin stood up and slumped against the desk. "I just… wanted to impress Elsie. I… You won't care."

To Severus' intense surprise, the hot pink flared up again, tinging the edges of McDuffin's ears and cheeks.

It was some kind of _mood sensor. _At once Severus' brain kicked into high gear. "What did you add?"

"It was just a…"

"What?" Severus prompted. "I need to know, so as to know whether you're going to expire in a few minutes or get covered in boils, or loose those good looks of yours-"

McDuffin blushed again, the colours swirling so much that Severus felt sick. He averted his gaze, staring at the grey liquid as it crept across the floor. He would need to extract this memory and study it.

"A lime, sir."

"A lime, McDuffin?"

"Yes sir. I… My father decided he wanted to study Muggle alcohol, sir. He… He was teaching me how to make cocktails."

"I see. And did such instruction include such showmanship as befits a circus act?"

"A bit, but… most of it was based on this video game Elsie was telling me about."

"Video game, McDuffin?"

"… Fruit Ninja."

"So you believed yourself to be some kind of ninja?" Severus let the question float on the air, McDuffin's face so scarlet that it almost lit up the room. "Don't worry, boy. It's alright." As the face before him relaxed into a ghostly cream of shocked relief, Severus quickly took advantage of the lowered guard, sweeping across the room to stand almost nose-to-nose. He was careful to avoid touching the boy - he didn't need his nose shining red with embarrassment like a certain reindeer. "But if you ever horse around in my classroom again, I will give you so many detentions with Filch you'll start calling him your third parent. Am. I. Clear?"

"Yes sir," McDuffin managed to stammer out. "I really am sorry. Sir."

"Good. Now, go have a shower and get to your next class."

McDuffin swallowed, and then nodded, running away in his damp socks and shoes, his books clasped under one silky blue arm.

Pulling out a new sheet of parchment, Severus began scrawling across it the Ministry form he knew almost off by heart, the pen barely rising from the page. With a sweep of his hand, head still buried in the patent application, Severus wandlessly Levitated a pinch of floo powder into the fire underneath one of the cauldrons closest to him and requested Minerva's office.

A harried looking headmistress answered, her hair so tightly caught against the top of her head that it was a wonder it didn't pull it off with the tension.

"Minerva," Severus said tersely. "I need you to cancel all my lessons for the day. Can you find a replacement? I had third year potions after lunch, and first years again in the final period - Slytherin and Gryffindor, so send someone willing to endure endless bickering."

"Severus… are you unwell? In as many years as we've worked together I've never known you to take time off-"

"Better." Severus interrupted, smirking at the disembodied head. "I think I know what Hermione is going to brew during our little demonstration."

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**AN: Merry Christmas!**


	8. Chapter 8: Practice Makes Perfect

Hermione was frowning down at the parchment in her hands.

Severus, as self-conscious as ever, had to curl his hands around fistfuls of his cloak. Obviously, he did this from the inside, and at the back, so that nobody - Hermione, Minerva, Vector or any ghosts that might choose to pop in - could tell that he was anxious. This had the added benefit of drying palms that were far too sweaty.

Without taking her brown, exquisite eyes away from the paper, Hermione separated out a curl and began to chew on it.

_Chew_. On her _hair_. Severus found this utterly distracting, and the tension in his chest eased. His next breath swished in with velvet smoothness, rather than being dragged whistling through his teeth, as he considered her. Hermione had many places where she shined far more brightly than Eri - bad habits were clearly not one of them. Did she cough up hairballs like that abomination she called a cat? Did she have to pick them out of her teeth?

Severus tried heartily to summon the disgust he'd feel if one of his students - cretins, all - were to do the same and he found himself empty of any such emotion. Hermione just looked cute, and confused - the ball of tension and butterflies began to unfurl once again in Severus' stomach. He rethought the shot of whiskey he'd had while researching the newly minted potion.

He still could hardly believe the addition of a muggle lime - with no magical properties whatsoever - could have such an effect on a Burn Salve.

"But…" Hermione hesitated, finally glancing away from the Burn Salve recipe to frown up at Severus. Minerva plucked the parchment out of her hand and, Vector hovering at one shoulder, began to read it for herself. "Why on earth would you want to add a lime to a Burn Salve?"

Severus smirked. "When you add too much of it - the juice, the rind seems to have no effect - it will turn into something far more… _revealing_."

"Sure…" Hermione tapped her fingers against her chin, the frown still marring the skin above her brows in familiar groove lines. "But... the recipe for Burn Salve doesn't have any sort of _citrus_ in it."

"Can you expect your pig of a boss to know that?" Minerva asked, looking up. "If Severus says that adding half a lime will do something embarrassing to him, and only a squeeze of lime juice will remain inert, shouldn't that be enough?"

"Won't he suspect?"

"Hermione," Vector smiled gently, as though to ease the words that followed. "You are very, very smart, and have probably memorised hundreds of Potions recipes. How many other people in your year do you think have done that?"

Hermione looked up, her eyes brimming with indecision. Severus frowned. He opened his mouth to step in when Hermione sucked in her lower lip and began biting it, a sliver of her tooth shining against her lips. The sight nearly brought him to his knees - in his struggle to remain upright and appear unmoved, he completely forgot what it was he'd been going to say.

"But this is the Department of Education," Hermione argued. "That's-"

"Sweetie, even _I _don't know the Burn Salve recipe off by heart. And I covered for Severus sometimes. So please, don't stress over that."

Hermione took a deep breath as though to argue, and then relaxed. The captive lip slipped free, and Severus' thoughts were his own once more.

"So you'll be able to somehow triple the ingredient depending on the name?" Minerva asked, passing the recipe back to Hermione but addressing Vector.

"As I said before… this isn't really what Arithmancy is about. We predict the future - we don't play number games on paper."

"But you can do it?"

"… Yes. One of my University friends invented a charm that changed the start time for a party invitation depending on how late she thought you'd be. It was very good - I think we all arrived within three minutes of one another. I asked her for it, and I'll start tweaking it now. Worst case, I'll have to be round the corner with his name and Hermione's clutched in my hands."

Minerva ran her hands through her hair and smiled, sighing with relief. He'd never seen her look so relaxed, but he supposed running a school left one wound tighter than a coil of wire.

"Then we're on track. Soon Hermione's boss will be leaving the Small Schools Initiative alone for Hermione to run for whomsoever she pleases."

Severus found himself sharing a triumphant smile with Hermione herself as she carried the cauldron to the table, ready for the demonstration. Severus was sure the resident Know-It-All could craft the Potion, Charm and Transfiguration simultaneously, in her sleep, but she'd wanted to practice in front of them all just in case.

"While we're on the subject…" Vector said, clutching her own lesson plan against her chest. It crinkled pleasingly. "I had a thought. I know you won't let favouritism spoil your choice, Hermione, as the teacher of the first cohort has to be smashingly smart for the initiative to succeed, but… I'd like to put my sister forward."

"Your sister?" Hermione asked, pushing up her shirt sleeves and staring at Vector.

"Yes, my older sister. Florence."

"I remember her," Minerva said, smiling. "Nice girl, very studious."

Vector swallowed, and Severus wracked his brain. Had he known Vector had an older sister? He was fairly sure she'd been the first of her family to attend Hogwarts - he remembered vaguely some dreary small-talk around the same topic.

"She… she caught Polio when she was around 7 years old."

"_Polio?"_ Hermione said, her voice cracking with surprise. Severus realised he'd involuntarily echoed her question - Minerva was simply staring at her, hands pressed so hard against her mouth that her fingers had turned white.

"Quite." Vector crumpled the paper even more tightly against her chest and took another deep breath. She blinked several times before she continued. "We'd been begging our parents to let us go to Disney Land in Paris, and … well, I suppose… anyway, she caught it there. It nearly completely paralysed her, and her lungs.. she had to have help breathing for a long time."

"But Septima, couldn't Mungo's-?" Minerva burst out, the words squeezing between her fingers. "I knew she had trouble walking, but…"

"We're Muggle-born, Minerva. They have rules."

"Stupid rules."

Vector smiled, and tears shimmered in her eyes. Suddenly Severus found himself crossing the room to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Go on," he muttered, his voice scraping across a throat he suddenly found was dry.

Taking whatever comfort she could from his hand, Vector stared at the floor.

"Anyway, it took a few years before Mungo's could eventually get her back on her- well, back on her feet. Literally, I suppose. They couldn't fix everything. She walks with the help of a metal frame, but at least she can breathe. Look, this wasn't the reason I brought her up. I think she'd be an excellent teacher. She lives in a village in Kent, rather small, but with several Magical families surrounding it. There's a few witches and wizards who set up a sort of commune there in the seventies, for mixed families. I think that would be the perfect place to start, since I know at least two of the children there have problems - Arthus was born without legs, and Daisy looks after her grandmother almost full-time."

"And Florence?" Hermione asked, her voice so choked with emotion Severus wondered if _she_ didn't need a hand on the shoulder.

Minerva smiled. "From what I remember, Florence was an incredible student. Despite her difficulties walking, she had such an amazing heart, and really helped people feel at home here. She was a prefect, wasn't she?"

"Yes," Vector smiled, and reached up to squeeze Severus' hand. "Thank you," she mouthed silently.

Severus nodded, taking his dismissal in good faith, and turned to watch Hermione.

"I'll certainly meet her," Hermione said, her gaze locked with Septima's. "I'd love to. Could you arrange it?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. Now, let's make sure there is a course she can teach!"

The three audience members fell silent, Minerva's arm wrapped around Septima's shoulders, brushing against Severus' own as they watched. Severus shifted away slightly, but before he finished the movement, he felt Septima's arm slip into his own.

Severus didn't bother trying to suppress the small smile that grew, since nobody could see him anyway. It had been a long time since he'd felt as though he had a friend, and here he was surrounded by three amazing women.

This might all end in a week, when Hermione finished off her presentation and no longer needed Severus, but until then he would try to enjoy it.

* * *

**AN: **I hope you're continuing to enjoy the story! I can't tell you how much your reviews and comments mean to me! They fill me with this balloon of happiness that settles in my chest.


	9. Chapter 9: Invitations

"Wonderful!" Minerva clasped her hands together, startling Vector awake, and stood up. "That just about does it, I think."

"Really?" Hermione looked up through the mad curls and stared directly into his own. "Severus, what do you think?"

"I think it was perfectly acceptable the first time you made us sit through this," Severus admitted. He'd been forced to endure Hermione's demonstration of Burn Salve three times this week, and on the nights she wasn't in Hogwarts he found he couldn't sleep. His mind would flit between her and Eri, comparing and contrasting them. Much to his surprise, the Mirror of Erised must be defunct, or falling down, the charms inside it giving in to the march of age. Because Dumbledore had always said there was no way of escaping the mirror's influence once you'd given into it, but Severus' Eri held no desire for him anymore. He spent his nights tossing, turning, and thinking of how cold and dark his life would be without Hermione. How cardboard and unfailingly mute Eri was compared to Hermione's fire.

It made these moments, when her chocolate gaze wavered and dipped, so much more precious and painful than anything he could have imagined.

"But with the practice, you have achieved a state of perfection, as always." Severus forced his voice to contain the correct amount of grudging compliment, so that nobody would notice how soft he was becoming on the Gryffindor swot. Her eyes shone with pride and gratitude. "However," Severus continued, "if you force us to sit through another of these, I fear my brain cells will start to atrophy and I _will_ become nothing better than a first year student."

For a moment, Hermione just stared at him, and his heart beat in his throat. If she misunderstood… if she took offence… and then she grinned and Severus' worries melted. "Alright, alright. I'm just… nervous. I don't speak well in front of crowds."

"No?" Severus frowned, trying to find a time when Hermione had done just that. "I seem to remember you said a _lot_ of things in class."

"That's different," Hermione frowned. "Nobody is staring at you, expecting you to speak, waiting for you to mess up so that they can laugh over a butterbeer later."

"Nobody will be doing that at your meeting, either." Minerva dusted off her hands. "If we're right, and Martin does seize this chance to have the spotlight all to himself, nobody will be listening to you at all until _after_ the accident."

"Well… exactly." Hermione frowned, her spine wilting slightly. "There will already have been one embarrassment. They'll be expecting another. Any little slip up and I'll have turned my education reform proposal into a farce."

Severus felt the situation beginning to slip away from the rational and into neurosis - he should know, he'd spent several months going around the same topics over and over again, after all - and he stepped forward, seizing Hermione's elbow.

"Trust me," he said softly. "Nobody will laugh at you."

There was a level of threat implied in his tone that Severus had not intended, a sub-text that anyone who laughed at her might find him- or herself incapable of laughter for quite a while afterwards. No wonder the innocent stared up at him with wide, brown eyes, searching for clarification in his gaze.

He imagined he could feel the disgust creeping up her spine as his fingers held onto her, but he was quite unable to loosen them. It was not a hard hold. She could, and no doubt would, slip free presently, with no need for any effort. But the warmth of her skin, blossoming through the shirt and into his fingers like life… he wouldn't turn and walk away just yet.

"Actually-" Hermione started, jolting Severus into the present. "I wanted to ask you something."

Her gaze slipped around him and checked that Minerva and Vector were otherwise occupied - mostly, Severus checked, with getting out of the room before Hermione started her Charms demonstration from the top of the page again.

"Go on," Severus prompted, when Hermione didn't speak. With her demonstration scheduled for Wednesday, Hermione would not see him again. So what could she be asking? If she could write to him? If they could catch a coffee sometime?

Severus' breath seemed to constrict around the scar on his throat, catching his voice there. He swallowed.

Could she be asking him on a date?

As her lovely lips formed words, Severus' heart beat so loudly against his chest, a throbbing buzz in his eardrums that prevented him from hearing her.

"Sorry? Could you repeat that?" He managed to force the words out, though his condition meant they sounded more like a growl than a question.

Hermione flushed, and Severus wondered if she'd just asked him to get out of the way.

"Would you mind coming with me? To the demonstration?" With her free hand she tugged on the sleeve of her jumper, pinching it together and wrapping it like thread about her. "I know it's a lot to ask and you probably have a million other things you'd rather do-" Severus could not think of one. "But I'd feel so much better if you were there. It's your potion, after all. Your recipe." She swallowed, and Severus was close enough to see her throat moving.

She _wanted_ him there at her big career success. This was almost _better_ than an invitation out for coffee, this was… this was fireworks warming his chest from the inside, a dizzy success that Severus couldn't have imagined for himself.

"Well…" he managed to croak out. "But what about Minerva, Vector? They did as much for the project as I."

"I can't really have every teacher I've consulted sit in," Hermione said with a smile. "I mean, I could, but it would look…strange. So, I'm limiting myself to just the one."

"I… Of course. I would be happy to be there for you."

Hermione's face didn't move for a moment as she processed his words, and then she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, thank you. That means so much. Really!"

He tried to soak the memory of her smile, the excitement shining from her eyes, into the very essence of his brain. This was a memory he could replay in the Room of Requirement on nights he couldn't sleep, and never mind about that darned mirror. He could be happy with the knowledge that once upon a time, the esteemed and successful Hermione Granger had thought she needed him by her side.

"Oh, wait, Minerva!" Hermione's focus switched to the two women who had almost completed their escape. Severus watched, amused at the slump in Vector's shoulders but saddened, simultaneously, by the loss of Hermione's focus. He chastised himself. He needed to learn to be happy with what he had. "I thought we three might go grab a Butterbeer. I'll buy the first round - I know it hasn't been the most simulating work but I really think we might have gotten him."

"Martin should be quaking in his boots," Minerva agreed, a smile growing at the thought of alcohol. Free alcohol, none the less. "Yes, let's go and celebrate! We deserve it. Vector?"

"Absolutely," Vector agreed, grinning at Severus. "Severus, you'll come, won't you?"

Hermione's gaze darted between Vector and Severus, that confused half frown back on her brow.

"Certainly. I don't think my contribution was any less than yours."

Vector's laugh seemed a little exaggerated to Severus, but he shrugged and followed the three women out of the castle and down to Hogsmeade. There was no understanding women.

"No," she agreed, turning back to look at him. Hermione's frown grew deeper. "I think we both did rather well. We'll have to team up again sometime."

Severus blinked, confused. Their interactions had been mostly minimal - there was certainly no part in the project where they had worked side-by-side. In fact, he'd had the exact measurements sent to her through the Floor system so as to be allowed to stay alone, in his room, researching this fascinating new Mood Paint. He could see some incredible uses for it - tattoos, of course, and children's toys if he could adjust the mixture to be water soluble. And for police work - Aurors would love to have this to hand during investigations - far easier and less morally ambiguous than _Veritaserum_.

"Yes…" he murmured. Hermione fell back to walk by his side, and he spent the rest of the slightly cold and foggy walk warmed by her company, her clever remarks on education, and the banter all three women exchanged once they were all seated around the scratched, worn tables at the Hog's Head.

"So 3pm, Wednesday," Hermione said abruptly, cutting through Vector's babble about some mistake a student had made, when they'd accidentally predicted the apocalypse as occurring last Wednesday, instead of the date of their parents' anniversary.

"I thought the demonstration started at 4?"

"It does," Hermione smiled, but to Severus' trained eye the gesture was strained with something. "But I thought we could grab a hot drink first. I'll be a barrel of nerves otherwise."

"Then 3 it is. I'll Floo in - could you meet me in the Entrance Hall?"

Vector's smile soured as Hermione grinned at him. Severus, baffled, decided to spend the rest of his evening staring into his drink rather than risk angering either of them again. Minerva prompted Vector to continue her conversation and Hermione's foot nudged Severus' gaze back up.

"See you then," she confirmed.

Severus felt a fizz of excitement lodge in his throat that had nothing to do with the alcohol they had consumed. He _was_ turning into a teenager.

He couldn't quite find the derision enough to clamp down on the feeling though. He left it there, bubbling inside him, for the remainder of the night.


	10. Chapter 10: Sweetness

"Severus? Is that you?"

Severus paused, one foot firmly ensconced in the warmth of Hogwarts, the other making a sizeable divot* from the grass seeds weeded into the gravel.

"Yes?" He admitted tentatively, looking around for Minerva - for it had been Minerva. She was nowhere in sight.

"Wait there, I'm coming down."

There was a flurry of activity above his head, and then a cat stood before him, glaring at a branch which had had the temacity* to shift beneath her weight on the way down, sending her tumbling quite undignified to land at his feet.

"Severus, glad I caught you," Minerva continued, brushing a sprinkling of frost from her shoulders. "Hermione left this last time she was in my rooms, and I keep forgetting to give it to her. I know you're going to her presentation - would you mind?"

Pinched between two of Minerva's fingers - Severus hesitated to consider where it had been held on her journey down - was a simple, gold bracelet. It wasn't engraved or decorated in any way, but the surface had been beaten to make a pleasing reflection when it turned in Minerva's hands.

"Yes, of course." He stepped out into the thin, late morning air, shivering a little as he slipped out of Hogwarts' protection.

The bracelet was warm against his fingers as he slipped it into his pocket, and even though he knew it was warm from Minerva, he couldn't help imagine that it was warmth Hermione had left there, like she'd left the bracelet. An echo of her, in his pocket, keeping him warm.

His cheeks burned a rosy glow, which Severus instinctively ducked his head to hide. Needlessly, as Minerva was already walking back into the school, taking control of the door away from Severus himself, and closing it firmly behind her.

Severus felt the blush spread down his throat and over his chest, in a manner most unbecoming a rational adult. It must be because he's cold, he told himself.

The anticipation of seeing Hermione in less than 20 minutes raced through him no matter _what_ he told himself, setting his cheeks and fingertips to tingling as he crunched down the grounds to the gate.

—

"But what did you think of Arcbright's findings on handling stress in the classroom?" Hermione pressed, her spoon paused halfway between her cup and that delectable, pink mouth. "Have you ever tried meditation?"

Severus scowled, and Hermione chortled as she finished the arc, placing the spoon - and it's large helping of whipped cream and two tiny, pink marshmellows, where it belonged. There was a smear of whipped cream cutting across her lips as she waited for his reply, the spoon back in the mug. The sight was so distracting that it took Severus several moments to remember she'd asked a question.

"I have not tried meditating before classes, no."

"I have." Severus raised an eyebrow. "No, not before classes exactly. But when I took my driving test."

"_You_ know how to drive?"

"Of course I know how to drive. I have muggle parents." Something that looked like pain flashed through Hermione's eyes. Severus considered digging deeper, finding out why she looked so distraught - but he bit his tongue. She would have to have all her wits about her for the demonstration in an hour.

Besides, Severus had never really been interested in emotions and feelings.

Another reason why Eri had been his heart's desire, he thought, the idea sobering. If one's desired mate is always asleep, they can't possibly share _feelings_. It was one of the reasons he found his interest in Hermione's life so fascinating.

That and how attractive the witch had become.

He felt sleazy realising that he was oggling a child he'd taught, someone he'd watched grow up, but at the same time… at the same time, it wasn't as though she were still a child. If anything, she was in a position of authority, however slim, over him.

"Did the meditation help?"

"Yes." Hermione dipped the spoon back into the remenants of whipped cream, pouting when she realised that there was barely any left. "I found that when I meditated before a lesson, I felt calmer before the wheel. When I was in a rush - or couldn't be bothered, or had Apparated one street too far away from the place I'd told him was my house… then my driving was much worse." Hermione shrugged. "Maybe you could try it sometime. I know you used to get awful headaches."

"I used to get awful headaches because I was forced to teach Potter," Severus drawled. His chest glowed at her laugh.

"I can't imagine I was much easier. Or Ron for that matter." She smiled, her eyes crinkling again at the corners. "Sorry."

"For?"

She blushed a rose pink. "I'm sorry that I lit you on fire. That we stole from you. That we ever bought into the idea that you were working for Voldemort."

Severus winced at the sound of the name, his hand instinctively going to the Dark Mark, which lay grey and fading still against his skin. Hermione was worrying at a napkin, tearing it into small shreds of fluff with the guilt that was surfacing.

"That was rather the point of a disguise," Severus said, waving his hand through the air. "If you hadn't believed it, neither would the children of Death Eaters. Even when we believed the Dark Lord to be defeated, the Ministry was more than happy to make use of my inside information to pursue artefacts and the like - as long as the information came through the sanitised source of Dumbledore, of course."

"That's even worse, in a way." Hermione tilted her head to one side and licked her lips clean. "We were safe in a large part because of you, and we still tormented you."

"Hermione," Severus leaned forward and took hold of the errant fingers. "It's alright. Really. And the headaches - that was a joke. I have suffered from migraines since I was born, there was nothing you, or Potter, or anybody could do to make them worse - or better. I can _Occlude_ most of the symptoms away and still teach, but it's… trying."

Hermione's eyes widened in concern. "There's nothing they can do to heal you?"

"Apparently not even magical science has figured out why migraines occur." He shrugged. "Some people are just…" he nearly said cursed. He forced his tongue to change direction. If he said cursed, Hermione would go tearing off trying to fix it. "unlucky."

"Well that seems even more unfair. But… I guess what I'm trying to say is - thank you. For everything you sacrificed."

"You're more than welcome." He smiled across the table at her, then grimaced and tilted his head forward so that the welcome curtain of hair protected him.

"You don't need to hide you know. I like your smile."

He peeked up at her, half convinced she was teasing, but her expression - earnest, focussed on stirring hot chocolate that most certainly didn't need it - calmed his fears. Aware that he was staring, and not wanting to make the moment any more awkward than it needed to be, Severus forced his gaze around the room.

"How did you find this place, anyway?"

"It's actually just around the corner from my flat." Hermione grinned. "I was shocked when I discovered the Muggle repellant charms, to be honest, directly in the centre of London. I can't imagine how much ordinary people miss as they travel about their days - how many streets they avoid subconsciously, how many doors their eyes slide over."

Severus followed her eyes out of the window, across the empty park and onto the Main Street, where a snaking stream of people marched past, their eyes downturned.

"It must be lonely, in a way."

"Do you think they ever realise?"

"Of course not."

"Not that there's magic!" Hermione's eyes rolled up and Severus smiled. "But that there's something just at the edge of their conscious, something missing from their lives? I know I did, before we got the letter, but… I hope that's just witches and wizards. Otherwise…" she stared out of the window at the drab, grey suits and black coats that walked past. "Otherwise, imagine living with that itch of not-knowing and _never_ finding out. _Never_ finding that one puzzle piece that's missing from your chest."

Severus swallowed. This was far too maudlin a subject. He needed to distract her, and fast, or else the demonstration might well be a failure in more than one way.

"How long have you been working for the Ministry?"

"Two years!" Hermione grinned at him. "I started pretty much as soon as the war ended, served my time as a coffee fetcher, and then ended up in the DoE. It's maybe not the most glamorous of jobs, but I enjoy it. Plus," she leaned in across the table, a devillish grin stretching her cheeks. "I get a kick out of being able to say I never earned my NEWTS and work in the DoE."

"Has it really been two years since-" His voice tailed off at Hermione's stricken expression. He was here to soothe Hermione's worries, not add to them.

"Sorry!" She babbled.

Severus admonished himself quickly. "Don't worry. I just…"

"It's weird, right? How much has changed? How much has stayed the same?"

Severus thought of Eri, lying alone in a cold, dark Room of Requirements, and nodded slowly. A _lot_ had changed. Two years ago, Severus had imagined he was going to die with his Dark Lord. Now he was sitting in the middle of London having coffee with one of the brightest witches in England.

"Come on," she said, squeezing his hand.

"Don't we need to pay?"

"Already did! My treat, since you're going to come and watch my presentation _again_."

Severus put on a show of sighing as he gathered his cloak over his shoulders, but truthfully?

He would suffer sitting through the presentation of a first year Burn Salve preparation a hundred times if it meant going to coffee with Hermione before each one.

—

AN- Since The Software (TM) doesn't seem to believe me, I'm going to define these words down here for people who perhaps don't speak English as a first language. Such as Americans ;)*

* divot. means an uprooted bit of grass or weeds, a sod, but in Scotland/that strange, boundary-less place we call The North

* temacity. Another real word, even if Google doesn't believe me. A blend of audacity and temerity. Yet more British slang. At least you're getting an education!

AN's to the AN:

*This was a joke, please don't hate me.

If this piece comes off a little bit wordy, blame Dickins. I'm reading The Old Curiosity Shop and, as my friend said, you can tell the man was paid by the word.

Also obligatory I'm sorry this is late, I wanted to like it before I published it, in hopes that one of you kind readers might perhaps leave a review.

Yes, I am shamelessly begging.

5


	11. Chapter 11: Success?

"Thank you for coming," Hermione said, holding her notes before her, the paper rustling like a sail snapping in the wind as she clenched it in shaking hands. Severus tried to project strength into her, as though by sheer force of will he could straighten her spine and still her hands, and soothe her worries, and …

By Merlin he had it bad, he realised with a start. Hermione met his eyes just as he was realising he was completely besotted, and he tried to smile. Her tongue was still a shade darker from the hot chocolate, and he knew that if he were in the front row he'd be able to smell the sticky sweetness in her breath.

"Today we're going to be demonstrating the culmination of a lot of important work in the Department of Education. As part of my initiative on smaller, more focused groups for those unable to attend Hogwarts, I have been collaborating with teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to ensure that the first year curriculum is both safe and resistant to mistakes, as well as-"

"Yes, thank you, Miss Granger. Everyone here at the department is grateful that you were able to dedicate so much of your personal time to the DoE's research and furthering our aims and objectives!" A slender man stood up, clapping loudly, and walked to Hermione's side. "Miss Hermione, everybody, one of our junior department members. Wonderful work."

He gestured towards her and the crowd clapped unconvincingly, confused by the sudden change in presenter.

"My name is Martin Hagswort, a descendent of the Hogwarts the school was named after. It's why the DoE was always the right fit for me!" Martin paused for a laugh, an expectant expression framing his face, one eyebrow almost brushing against his hairline. The gathered crowd - mostly retired teachers and DoE professionals, tittered unconvincingly. "Thank you, Miss Granger. Please sit down."

Martin waved her over to a seat, keeping his hand on her notes as she walked away.

_Perfect_.

Severus could see the confusion and devastation lining Hermione's face - either she was an excellent actor or she hadn't really expected Martin to take over.

"We begin with Potions!" Martin walked over to the cauldron, warming up over a low flame. Hermione and Severus had had to carry that cauldron across the room together, setting up the demonstration, and seeing Martin using it - even knowing that that had been the intention all along - had Severus baring his teeth. _Bastard._

"Now, this is the recipe for a simple Burn Salve." With a wave of his wand, Martin projected the recipe onto the white wall behind him in black paint, quite legible. Severus winced - hopefully Vector's magic wasn't copied with it. He scanned the recipe - for him it said half a lime, but for others? He scanned the crowd, and sensed Hermione doing the same. Puzzlement flittered across the room like a butterfly, turning neighbour to whisper with neighbour.

Damnit. If even one of them saw a whole lime instead of a half, the ruse was up. Why the hell hadn't they thought of this? Severus could have-

"Excuse me," an elderly gentleman stood, adjusting his collar. "But that recipe looks incorrect. It certainly isn't the same as was taught in my day."

"How so?" Martin asked, twisting towards the wall.

"A lime? A muggle lime? What is the world coming too?" A woman stood as she spoke, her expression haughty. "Really? A lime?"

Severus frowned. Everyone important was sat at the front, surely - but this woman was in the third row, the same as he himself was. Her voice held the intonation one always got from the upper classes - crisp and clear. Like Lucius', or the accent that Severus had tried to mimic as a student, Binns'. Severus didn't have time to wonder about the lady's hatred of citrus fruits. The whispers were dancing around him like a game of 'pass the hot pixie' and there couldn't be _any_ suspicion that he'd tampered with the recipe deliberately. He cleared his throat and stood up, his heart faltering as several eyes turned towards his. He licked thin, dry lips.

Severus was used to speaking in front of crowds, damnit, he taught every day. He sat in the Great Hall and ate while brats whispered about him.

But he knew that most of the people in this room rightfully hated him. He'd had some of their families investigated for dark magic relics; the other half he'd insulted and terrified and bullied. Half the Wizarding population probably wished he'd died, Nagini's venom flooding his veins with slow, thumping beats. He could almost see the thoughts hovering over their heads.

But he needed to save Hermione.

"I taught many of you," Severus said softly. His voice rasped against his throat, and he swallowed and tried again. "As the chief liaison from Hogwarts on the Potion's curriculum, I can assure you that the recipe is correct."

"Explain yourself," the old man with the too-tight collar asked, working a thumb between himself and the material.

"It soothes the external appearance of the burn, turning the inflamed skin white. This has proved to correspondingly decrease pain, particularly in patients at both the younger and older ends of the spectrum, as they no longer expect it to hurt." This was mostly true, although Severus hadn't actually _proved_ anything. He was cobbling that result from a similar experiment he'd read about in the Prophet science section months ago, on the treatment of spots. If the spot was less red, patients prodded it less. "Plus," Severus said, just as the crowd were returning their attention to Martin. Heads swivelled back. "It reduces the stench, and makes the result far less… overwhelming."

The rail-thin witch, who'd been so very against citrus fruit, clapped her hands excitedly. "That's really excellent," she said, leaning across the three people between them. Apparently her interest in the solution was so great she was able to overcome the Severus Snape forcefield that had the others shuffling chairs away from him. "Really, whenever we use ours we have to open all the doors and windows. And of course fires are far more common in winter time, never when you want the damned wind blowing through."

She squeezed his arm and sat back down.

Severus shuddered and turned his eyes forwards again, to where Martin had begun chopping, stirring and demonstrating for the 'class' the correct way to hold a knife. He saw Martin's eyes flick from the recipe to the ingredients waiting for him, and then turn to the lime.

Now was the moment. There would be a small _pop_ as the lime would hit the potion's surface and be submerged, a few seconds while the skin melted against the highly alkaline burn salve - and then - that wouldn't be a burn salve any longer.

The pop sounded, startling a few people around the room, and the smell changed to one of a lime grove in Southern Italy. He wanted to grin ear-from-ear. Instead, he frowned, schooling his features into one of perplexed understanding.

"And that's all there is to it!" Martin said, using the knife to exaggerate his hand movements and emphasise his point, like somebody who didn't understand that knives are sharp.

_Hell in a handbasket_, Severus thought, looking around the room at the politely interested viewers. How had he not realised this was a possibility? Nobody would _know _that the man at the front had cocked up - after all, the Potion may be a different colour, but everyone had** seen** the changed recipe. Such small deviations might be expected.

And since Martin was weilding a knife, Severus couldn't even do some small, magical trick and upend him into the cauldron. Too dangerous - he didn't want to hurt the man. Okay, he might want to hurt the annoying, work stealing prick, but he knew Hermione wouldn't appreciate it.

Damn. What to do now?

4


	12. Chapter 12: Working a Crowd

Severus stood up slowly, his knees creaking at the effort. He looked around, but to his surprise - and pleasure - nobody was looking at him. Nobody expected him to speak, after all.

"Excuse me," he said, catching a glimpse of Hermione's wide eyes, still fixed on Martin. The words came out in a hiss, and only four or five people peered around at him, their expressions bored. Disinterested.

Unsettled, Severus none-the-less opened his mouth. Martin _needed_ to show people he'd fucked up without it looking too obvious that Severus or Hermione had orchestrated the entire damned thing. _Think_, Severus. _Think_! From the corner of his eye he could see Hermione was muttering something, her fingers flickering down by her hip. Cooking something up.

"Erm-" Severus started, trying to keep the crowd focused on him. "I-"

Severus' hand was shoved deeply into his trouser pocket in a way he _never_ stood in public. His nerves really were getting the better of him. But… all of these people. They were old enough to remember both wars. To know that Severus had been involved, had seen some of their loved ones tortured… killed…. The bracelet was cold against his fingers, snapping him out of the downward spiral of his thoughts. Severus took a deep breath, ready to try again to gain the attention of the crowd, the reminder that Hermione was his friend egging him on.

A sharp movement from a cloud of curly brown hair, a loud crash- Severus drags his attention - along with everyone else's - back to Martin.

"Merlin's _balls_!" Martin screamed as the warm liquid coated him. "This robe was damned expensive."

As he wiped it off the material, it stuck instead to his hands - and, to Severus' glee, a large drop found its way to his nose as he flicked the robe down in dismay.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, hovering at his elbow. Slowly Severus sat back down. Everything was under control. She didn't need him.

"I don't bloody know, I turned to put back the knife, and I must have caught the leg of the bloody table somehow." Martin snapped, flinging the knife across the floor towards the wall in a violent wrench. His nose turned a dark purple, so dark it was almost black.

Hermione yelped. "I think you've hurt yourself - your nose. It's bruised."

Severus winced again. Trust Hermione to ruin the thing with compassion.

As Martin lifted his hands up to his nose, he caught sight of the purple skin with a start. "What in the-"

Even as he stared, the colour faded, being mixed with silver - curiosity - and a streak of the light blue. Fear.

"What-"

"I don't think that was a Burn Salve," Hermione mused, turning back to the table where the potion still dripped out of the cauldron. Her voice was stretched and distorted, and Severus winced. She didn't even appear to be attempting a poker face, her lip crushed between teeth.

"Not a Burn Salve? What in blazes are you talking about?" The dark purple bloomed, clouding out all of the other colours as Martin clenched his teeth towards Hermione. "What the hell have you done?"

Severus cleared his throat and stood again. "It appears you failed to follow the recipe, Mr…" Severus let his voice trail off, one eyebrow raised.

Martin didn't reply, only growled.

"You never were one for rules, I suppose. You have added more than twice the amount of lime stipulated on the wall behind you." Martin turned to read the recipe, and Severus saw Hermione's hand shoot out and grab the recipe from the table, neatly covering it in the mood paint.

"I… I could have sworn this said a whole lime…." Martin's voice tailed off, and then the colour changed for a split second to the deep, Slytherin green. "But this is fantastic! I have discovered a new Potion! Some kind of colour changing paint. Imagine the uses for this!"

The crowd murmured with interest, pressing more closely to identify the liquid.

"As adept as you are at stealing work, sir," Severus continued, finding his footing. About half the crowd turned back to look at Severus, as he stood slowly again. "As you have clearly demonstrated by your failure today, you are not the inventor of this potion."

"No? But this entire room just saw me create it!" Martin grinned, spreading his arms wide as though to encompass the room in an embrace. "And I've _certainly_ never heard of it before. Trust me, brats up and down England would be painting themselves with it in no time."

"Then that is lucky for the patent owner," Severus smiled. "Which is myself."

Severus took rather more satisfaction from the bloom of hot pink embarrassment spreading across Martin's face - both the paint and his clear cheeks - than he should, but the man was a pig. Bullying Hermione, stealing credit for work he didn't understand - and a Pureblood purist, by the sounds of it. Severus had no sympathy left in him for such as this.

For a moment the room hung in silence, the crowd hushed and expectant. Then a dignified looking witch in the front row - pencil thin, with a bun reminiscent of Minerva - raised a hand over her lips and tittered. The laugh grew inside her, becoming a cackle and then a belly-aching roar of laughter.

The crowd followed suite, catching the giggles like an infectious disease as Martin stood below them, dripping in drying paint, the colours swirling in shades of pink over his hands and face.

Martin drew himself up to his full height and stormed out of the room, his cloak stiffly hanging behind him as he did so.

"Sorry about that," Hermione addressed the crowd, amplifying her voice through a _sonos_ charm. Severus could see the laughter hiding in the ever-bright eyes as she drew everyone's attention back to the demonstration table, the paint drying in a long strip by her feet. "I will continue the demonstration until Martin feels better."

"No offence, little lady," the portly gentleman stood up, his suit bristling under the motion. He was almost of a height with Severus. "But why should we continue the demonstration? Surely you have just proved why such classes should only be taught by _accredited_ Potions Masters. If just anyone taught our students how to prepare Potions - why, they would have just been taught how to make colour changing paint instead of a Burn Salve, and imagine how dangerous _that_ could be. At the very least, the children would be frightened, thinking that they might be harmed, without someone knowledgable there to protect them."

"I-" Hermione stared up at them, her mouth hanging open. "I- If you'd just let me demonstrate the charms portion, you'd know that-"

"Hear hear!" The pencil thin woman agreed. "I fear that you've only proved the opposite point, my dear. You've shown that Potions are a dangerous and temperamental subject, best to be left alone. Perhaps you could have some kind of small classroom that taught only easy subjects - certainly no flying or Transfiguration, but perhaps History of Magic and Charms? Without a Mediwitch at hand…"

The murmuring around Severus increased, and he caught Hermione's eyes. Their gazes interlocked over the scandalised crowd, and Severus could feel the pull of desperation deep within them. She needed his help.

"Silence," Severus demanded, the power of his voice silencing the chatter.

—

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	13. Chapter 13: Winning a Crowd

"I-" Hermione stared up at them, her mouth hanging open. "I- If you'd just let me demonstrate the charms portion, you'd know that-"

"Hear hear!" The pencil thin woman agreed. "I fear that you've only proved the opposite point, my dear. You've shown that Potions are a dangerous and temperamental subject, best to be left alone. Perhaps you could have some kind of small classroom that taught only easy subjects - certainly no flying or Transfiguration, but perhaps History of Magic and Charms? Without a Mediwitch at hand…"

The murmuring around Severus increased, and he caught Hermione's eyes. Their gazes interlocked over the scandalised crowd, and Severus could feel the pull of desperation deep within them. She needed his help.

"Silence," Severus demanded, tearing the noise of the room in half.

—

The silence that rippled around him surprised Severus. He was, of course, used to commanding respect and obedience in a classroom, but these were seniors of the Ministry. In many ways, they were above him - not to mention that they lacked his reputation as a double-crossing spy.

Yet they sat there, staring up at him.

Severus realised with a cold, shocked sensation that he recognised many of them. Yes, he'd known them when they were shorter, fatter, thinner and almost every face was more lined and less spotty, but he _knew_ these people.

It loosened the fear that gripped his tongue, vice-like. He had taught some of these as youths - and the others, he had taught their children.

"You will listen to Miss Granger with respect, rather than talking over one another like animals," he commanded, his voice gliding like a panther through the room.

"But, Professor Snape, surely you must see that your subject is too dangerous-"

"You!" Severus cut across the moustached man's rant and pointed at citrus-fruit witch. "Montgomery, wasn't it?"

"Jones, now. Married." Her response was brief, her eyes darting between Severus and the tops of her own shoes, whether in a continuation of her arm-squeezing flirtation or shock at having been called out, Severus couldn't be certain.

"Ms Jones, was Potions your favourite subject at school?"

"Why, no," she admitted, her lips pressed together. "I was rather… unskilled."

"You were a disaster. Yet you managed to graduate Hogwarts and roam the streets quite unobstructed, despite what you may or may not have learnt in my classes. You have not, I take it, accidentally blown anybody up while creating simple Potions."

"I buy most of them, actually." Mrs Jones blushed. "It's easier. Faster, safer."

"Interesting," Severus rubbed his hands together, trying to encourage blood to circulate back into them. He wasn't afraid anymore, now that he'd spoken and nobody had decried him a traitor, but his heart was still skipping less important parts of his anatomy, and the pads of his fingers were chilled to the touch. "So you haven't brewed a Potion since you left Hogwarts?"

"No."

Severus stepped out of his row in an awkward shuffle and made his way along the edge of the room towards Hermione. She was staring at him, brown eyes wide in her bonny face. For a moment Severus lost himself in imagination. What would it feel to trace the curve of that cheek, first with his fingers, then his lips?

He forced his gaze away from her, licking his lips.

"_Martin_," he continued, turning back to the crowd, "did indeed fail to follow the recipe. He brewed the incorrect potion. But was anybody harmed? He suffered a little minor embarrassment, being coated in mood paint, but surely he is uninjured?" The crowd muttered to themselves, but Severus held their attention in the palm of his hand. He allowed them that brief freedom before reclaiming the focus of the room. "How, then, can we brand potions as too dangerous when such a mistake did not lead to the loss of life or limb?"

"This time," the portly gentleman retorted, his finger held up and waving at Severus. "But children are idiots. Next time it will be grasswheat in a Pepper Up in a mad attempt to brew beer, and then where would we be?"

"Children have always been idiots," Severus agreed. "And they are idiots at Hogwarts as well. The teachers of these small classrooms will be able to bring any injured children to Hogwarts by _Floo_, of course."

"They would?" Mrs Jones asked. "That would go a long way to soothing parental worries."

"And, what's more, the curriculum was carefully vetted by myself and Miss Granger here, to ensure that none of the potions are easily made explosive, poisonous or dangerous in any manner."

The crowd muttered again. Severus could feel them sitting at the edge of a decision, but he couldn't tell which way they would fall. He had done his best.

"Perhaps," Hermione said, her voice tinny in the rush of blood filling Severus' ears. "Perhaps if Ms Jones would like to-"

"It's Mrs Jones," the woman smiled. "Sorry, continue."

"Mrs Jones. If you'd like to re-do the Potions demonstration?"

"Oh, no." Mrs Jones flushed bright pink. "I really think- That is-"

"I'll be able to guide you," Hermione pressed. "I'll be stood right here, at your side. And if anything goes wrong, Sev- Professor Snape is in the room. I think we can all agree he can handle himself in a crisis."

"But I'm a disaster, he said so! I can't brew a Hiccuping Potion, let alone a Burn Salve…"

"Please," Hermione waved her over. "Our students will be First Years. You won't face anything harder than the techniques you learnt there, I promise."

The room mumbled encouragement at Mrs Jones for a moment, until she sighed and stepped up to the table. With a wave of Severus' hand the materials and ingredients were replaced.

"Alright," Hermione began, "let's gather all our ingredients first. We'll need…"

Severus tuned out her voice as she listed the ingredients and how to prepare them, watching her hands around the piece of paper she clutched. They were steady - not shaking at all.

He was very, very proud of her.

And he was a little pleased with himself too.

—

At the end of her presentation, Hermione was flooded by Department employees, the heads and hearts she'd won during her presentation clamouring around her. Severus wanted to congratulate her, to celebrate her - but these people all had a reason for being here. It was their job. To distract her now would be unconscionably rude.

He strode down the hallway to the _Floo_, conscious of a weight in his pocket. The bracelet, of course. He turned back, to estimate whether he'd be able to slip into that crowd and hand her the bracelet - complete his duty to Minerva and to Hermione. If anything, the number of people had grown. One man was animatedly writing on the chalkboard by Hermione head, the chalk drawing plans and schemes Severus couldn't follow, no doubt based on the curriculum of their new, trial schools.

Hermione caught Severus' eye, and they shared a secretive, intimate, magical smile that Severus wanted to relive again and again. That was enough, then. He'd let her work in peace. He could always Owl the bracelet to her, after all.

It would, at the very least, be an excuse to talk to her again. Severus couldn't say no to that.

—

AN: A little shorter this week, but I think they're bubbling along quite nicely! Don't forget to leave a review - greatly increases the likelihood of my releasing the next chapter on schedule!

If you're not moved to leave a review on this one, please leave a review on the next story you read! Fanfic authors create these worlds for love of you, so be kind and reflect a little back!

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	14. Chapter 14: Searching

The week after Hermione's presentation Severus kept expecting to see her. Every swish of a cloak around a corner, or mop of bushy hair, had his heart beating faster, his lips twitching into something that a First Year might mistake for a smile.

Each and every time he was disappointed.

Her bracelet sat on the desk in his rooms, glinting quietly in the candle light, winking at him softly. Every time he caught sight of it his mind seemed to lurch, pleading with the universe to bring her back to Hogwarts again. Despite the physical discomfort of the reminder, Severus took to carrying it around with him, slipped into his pocket. This way, he rationalised, if he ever bumped into her... the plan never developed much further than that, but Severus still tucked the metal band into his pocket every morning, and placed it with the solemnity of ritual on his bedside table every night.

"She's busy, that's all," Minerva said, touching his hand with hers when he asked her if the woman was ill. "Her project was approved - there's a lot of work to do in the first week to gather a team, set up a timeline. That sort of thing. She'll be by soon."

But the days ticked by and Hermione failed to show up for breakfast or dinner, drinks with Minerva or - and Severus had to admit this was a foolish thing to hope for - even to invite him out for coffee-hot-chocolate at her favourite cafe.

It might have been a foolish thing to hope for, but Severus hoped for it all the same, felt the burning brightness of that hope sear his chest with each and every breath.

"You know," Vector said softly one Saturday morning, as Severus crunched his toast mutinously between his teeth, staring morosely at the doors, "It might never happen!"

"It already has," he snarled, forced to come back to reality with a start. He'd been imagining her return, her cheerful smile pushing open those double doors. "That's the trouble."

He left her frowning behind him, marching away in a whirl of heavy wool cloak and a cloud of determination. This had to stop - he was moping like a child, for goodness sake. He knew where she lived; or at least, he knew she lived close to the bakery. He would wait for her there, or send an owl and follow it. Ask her out for another coffee.

In Severus' limited understanding, since she had proposed the first, he was technically in charge of the second encounter.

His brain shied away from calling it a date.

Severus really, really wanted to go on a date with Hermione Granger.

The thought brought an angry blush to his cheeks as he stormed down from the castle to the gates, the ground hard beneath his boots, his heart surging in his chest. Should he do it? Could he? For a breath, he stood by the boundary, half-convinced that the best thing to do would be to return back to Hogwarts and curl up with a tatty paperback.

In the end, it was the bracelet that pushed him over the edge, the metal tingling under his fingertips.

* * *

The wind in London was much less sharp than that of Scotland. That was the first thing that caught Severus' attention as he reeled in a grotty alleyway a street away from the bakery. His head swirled indelicately, yanking his stomach along with it, and he closed his eyes in order to settle his nausea. He hadn't enjoyed the toast enough going down to even consider a repeat.

It had been a long time since he'd Apparated such a distance. In the old days, when he was summoned here and there and every-bloody-where the Dark Lord wanted him, Severus had become accustomed to Apparating - sometimes blindly - a distance of twenty thousand miles or more twice in a night, four nights a week.

Severus hadn't thought that his year and a half of freedom would have destroyed his talent so quickly.

But then, he had been getting comfortable. Complacent.

Surprisingly, it hadn't been the Dark Lord's death that had let him get this way, it had been Dumbledore's. In between the wars, with Dumbledore forever chasing this or that dark artefact, Severus had gone to enough sad, lonely, three- or four- Death Eater meetings to make him deathly afraid of anything held in a circle. The sad, gloomy oppression of people who were convinced they were superior haunted him. But with the former Headmaster resting peacefully somewhere - Severus refused to consider _how_ his former confident had met that fate - Severus had been free to relax. Withdraw. Soften.

"Come on, old chap," Severus chided himself, opening his eyes and counting the bricks at the end of his pointed nose until his mind - and stomach - steadied. "Work to do."

Once he was in the park, staring at the coffee shop, Severus realised that this plan was not perhaps his most thought through. He'd been acting on desperation and anger, tired of Vector's cheery lies and Minerva's calculating looks. If he was going to suffer like a man scorned, he would damned well be scorned, and sod the world.

Now, in the chilly wind, with ominously grey clouds weighted above him, Severus was regretting his morning's choices. Wizards, Witches and Muggles all surged around the park, focused on going this way and that along the nondescript streets, ignorant to the beauty that nestled between them. The proximity of so many strangers, when the world still insisted on judging him for his part in the war, questioning his loyalties, sneering, swearing- Severus felt fear ripple down his back at the thought of it, sour in his throat. He didn't want to be too out in the open. He didn't want to be here at all, far from the comforts of Hogwarts or the familiarities of home.

On top of that, he had no idea where she lived, other than "close by", and he realised now that going around knocking on all the doors might not have the desired effect. And might introduce him to more than a few Wizards or Witches who would rather Severus be in Azkaban.

Instead, he pushed open the door of the cafe, ordered himself a hot chocolate - with marshmallows, never hurt to think like the person you were trying to find, after all. Definitely had nothing to do with his own sweet tooth - and waited. He didn't feel the itch between his shoulder blades of attention as strongly here, and wondered if that was because there were less people to stare and threaten and _think_ things at him, or because he knew the cafe to be safe because he'd come here first with her.

Severus Snape was a patient man. He'd spent so much of his life, first as a child, then a teenager, then an adult, sitting on the brink of danger, that he was rather revelling in the feeling of having absolutely nothing to do but wait. Nobody was going to order him to attend a dismal party or play chess with Malfoy or murder some poor, unsuspecting Muggle. Nobody was going to make pointed comments about the hole in his socks or backhand him for 'talking back', whatever that mean.

It felt as though the weight of the world had been, if not sitting on his shoulders, then squeezing them together at the back, fists gripping tightly into the muscles and twisting.

"Refill, sir?" the waitress asked, her smile a cherry pop of colour.

"Perhaps a water. And an espresso," Severus said, trying to subtly scrape the thickness of chocolate from his teeth. She turned to go, the frilly apron twirling in the breeze, and Severus decided something. "Actually, a moment more. A fr-" his tongue nearly tripped over the word, and Severus had to focus very closely to ensure it came out in one piece, "a friend tipped me off to this place. Perhaps you know her? Hermione Granger?"

"Oh yes! Hermione is always popping in here on her way to or from work - usually with her paperwork tucked under one elbow!" The waitress gave a laugh.

"On her way to work? Ah, that's unfortunate." Severus swallowed his disappointment, which sat more obtrusively on his tongue than the chocolate had. "I had hoped to see her here today, thank her for the recommendation."

"Ah, sorry. She has pretty hectic weekends from what I understand - she's friends with Harry Potter, you know! And Ronald Weasley. So she has a lot of Quidditch matches to attend!" The waitress laughed, and disappeared back behind the counter, Severus' empty hot chocolate cup in one hand. "Oh!" She added, popping back around the counter. "You could always ring up and see if she's in."

"Ring…up?"

"Oh, didn't she tell you?" The waitress grinned. "She lives right in the flat right above us!"

* * *

**AN** \- I adore Severus in this itchy, nervous state, finally learning to enjoy his free time. I hope you did too!

Not long to go now, my glorious readers.

And, not to belabour the point, but it was your glorious and wonderful reviews that reminded me to come back and finish this darn story, even in the middle of everything popping off over here, so thank you once again! You're all stars. Glorious stars. 3


	15. Chapter 15: A Sweet Treat

Severus drank his espresso in record time, the coffee scalding hot as it streaked down his throat and into his stomach, chased by the lukewarm tap water. The bracelet grew heavier in his pocket - the perfect reason to visit, an excuse in case seeing her became too awkward, in case his tongue decided to match his stomach and twist up in knots. Then he could just thrust the bracelet at her and make a quick escape to save face.

The stairs were windy and wooden, creaking under each step as if in competition with his knees. His knees were almost twice the age of Severus, weary and tortured from years of service. Perhaps he'd book an appointment with the Medical Wing on his return to Hogwarts, see if there wasn't some cure or, god-forbid, exercise that might improve their prospects.

There were three doors at the top of the stairs, each painted the same uninspiring shade of grey as the next, but somehow Severus knew which one was hers. It wasn't just the shiny door handle, as though the person inside reminded themselves to polish it once a week with a very long list of household chores, but the cheery bouquet of posies just outside it, planted in what looked like an old metal bucket with a green plastic tube stuck out of the top of it.

Something about the cheerfulness of the plants amongst the chipped doors and close quarters told Severus, in no uncertain terms, this was the house of Miss Hermione Granger.

Just as he raised his voice to knock, a loud screech of anger vibrated through the door and almost knocked Severus back a bit.

"She's got company, mate," the door knocker stretched itself to say, it's voice lazy. "That's why _he's_ out here."

Severus looked down just in time to see an orange, matted cat press against his pristine black robes, leaving orange hair in its wake. A male bellow seemed to match Hermione's earlier annoyance, booming through the tiny corridor and echoing from every plane surface.

"Usually he's scratching at my surface to get back in, but-" the doorknob strained closer to Severus, emerging from the door as far as he could reach before being blocked back against it like gum. "If you ask me, a room can only have one ginger in it at a time. Otherwise the safety of the universe, the law, the order! It's all in trouble."

Severus raised his hand to knock, trying his best to avoid the reach of the strange door ornament, his heart sinking. "That's nonsense. I've taught more than one red-head in the same class, and the universe, law and order have all remained relatively intact. All this 'ginger' nonsense is just a way of pointing out differences between people, forming groups."

Although, Severus finished the thought in private, if the Weasley clan were any indication, it might be true that the law was threatened by more than two red-heads in a room.

Weasleys…

He knocked before the thought could complete, though he now knew exactly who was in there, shouting at or with Hermione. He needed to distract them, and himself.

There was a pause in the noise beyond, and then the door was wrenched open, revealing a bright red Ronald Weasley.

The colour of his skin was so bright it made Severus wonder why the Weasley's were categorised as red-heads when the colour was so clearly _orange_ in contrast.

"Oh, blimey. Snape. " There was an inarticulate growl from somewhere behind the looming Weasley - gosh he'd sprung up since he left Hogwarts - and Ron unconvincingly tacked on a "Professor."

"Yes," drawled Severus. "Weasley, Mr. Might I have a word with Hermione?"

Ronald, rather than step aside, leaned against the door jam, arms crossed, blocking Severus from seeing past him into the room. "What do you want with my Mione?"

The possessive pronoun struck Severus like a box to the ear.

"Oh for goodness sake." A familiar bushy head appeared underneath Ron's arm, elbowing him neatly in the side and stepping past the hole his groan left. "Severus, lovely to see you."

"Mione, we weren't finished."

"No, but I have company now. Perhaps you'd like to come back another time?" Hermione offered, her voice icily polite.

"You owe me for this flat, you know," Ron said, his voice surly. "You'd never have gotten the deposit without Mum's help. Your credit alone-"

"Yes, thank you," Hermione's voice was crisp as she closed the door, almost bumping the wood against Ron's nose before he jumped backwards. She'd actually closed the boy _into _her flat. That didn't bode well for Severus…

He felt anxiety take a grip on his throat, and rushed to fill the silence. "Everything… alright? Is he bothering you?"

"Oh, no. He's harmless." Hermione smiled up at him, her eyes tired above the genuine pleasure. "Don't suppose you want a drink?"

Severus was quite full of liquid after his coffee, hot chocolate and water, but he nodded anyway, desperate not only to keep her out of the flat - away from the Weasley boy who had made up so much of Hermione's childhood - but to keep her in his company.

"I'll pay," Severus said as they traipsed down the little staircase, remembering the way Ronald had sneered about the flat. "You got the last round."

"Oh, well," Hermione smiled at him, seating herself on a window table without waiting for a waitress. "If we must keep score."

Silence rained down on them, awkwardly coating Severus. As each layer descended, he found it more and more difficult to find a topic of conversation, his mind desperately searching in dusty attics and forgotten chests for any topic he might share an interest with Hermione and, somehow, improbably coming up empty.

All his conversational topics, research and knowledge, general or otherwise, was currently hiding in the kitchen, waiting for him to not need them - perhaps tossing in bed, wondering why he was so tongue-tied around Hermione - when they'd spring up and surprise him.

"Thank you so much, again, for your help with the presentation," Hermione cut into his thoughts with a smile. "I really couldn't have moved with half the speed without your good word during that chaos - and Martin's not talking to me, which honestly has meant I get even more work done. Thank you for enduring all that practice with me."

"Not at all," Severus smiled at her, agreeing with the waitress that a glass of coke was probably all he needed. The thick taste of chocolate, now undercut with acidic coffee, still seemed to fill his mouth, dulling his tongue and mind simultaneously. "I'm sure you could have managed just as well yourself, but I got no small amount of pleasure from watching-" Hermione succeed - "your boss get his rightful comeuppance."

The blush that crossed Hermione's face made her glow so brightly that Severus immediately looked away, unable to look at so much pleasure the way that people struggle in daylight after a long captivity.

"Well, it certainly was a long time coming," Hermione agreed, halving the Smarties cookie she'd ordered and pushing the largest half across the table towards Severus. He could feel the tight balls of tension in his shoulders relaxing in the happy, comfortable presence.

"Mione!" Severus looked up to find the angry Weasley looming over their table, blocking out the soft light streaming through the window. "Did you seriously just leave me in the apartment? Alone? Mid-conversation?"

"_You_ were mid-conversation," Hermione pointed out archly. "I'd already said my points and answered all yours. Since you were set on repeating it _again_, which I'd made clear I didn't want to… You left me no choice."

"No choice?" Ronald pulled a chair across from another table and picked up the unclaimed half cookie, shoving it into his mouth and making pained eyes at Severus, as though hoping to find an ally of that austere, sharp-edged man. "Could have invited me down here."

Severus sneered, and tried to ignore the chocolate smear that Ron had painted the corner of his mouth with.

"Anyway, Mione, I wanted to ask you something important." Ronald started fiddling with the salt shaker, pushing the now empty plate towards Severus along the table top. "That's why I came around this morning. Thought… I thought maybe we could give it another go."

Severus Snape's heart had long been a subject of debate for fourth and fifth year's alike. Was it still there? Was it a cold, hard lump of coal? How long could a man survive if his heart froze over?

Severus Snape had always thought these debates rather unnecessary. A heart pumped blood around the body, and could not go missing or shrivel up and die, not solely because the subject in question was a bastard, anyhow.

Now, however, his chest felt like shards of ice has sprung up everywhere, bitingly cold as they pierced that beating organ.

"Another go at what?" Hermione ask, collecting whipped cream and marshmallows onto her spoon.

"At us. Our relationship!" Ronald lowered his tone and leaned forward, his back a wall between Severus and Hermione. "We were good together, weren't we? We were happy?"

"Ron-" Hermione stood up, her back ramrod straight. "Are you telling me that you came to my apartment and reminded me of how little money I have, how small and cramped my rooms are, how little my job is worth compared to your superstar career _catching balls_, in order to woo me back into your arms?" Every word was a little higher in volume, until by the end of her list they'd drawn the attention of everybody else in the cafe, who were all furiously studying the wooden tabletops and not looking in Severus' direction.

A few beats of silence as Ron blinked, parsing her words. Quietly Severus levitated a stack of coins over to the waitress. This silence was unbearable - the other patrons had stopped chewing, talking, drinking… He could practically hear their excitement that they had been _there_, actually _in the room_, while two of the wonder team discussed getting back together.

Severus shifted, twitched, and finally snapped.

"Ronald Weasley. I have seen many things in my day. But never before have I seen a young man interrupt a date in order to put his case before the lady."

Severus snapped his mouth shut as Ron turned, his eyes wide above a gaping mouth. Severus felt his bones try to retreat deeper into his body. He couldn't have just said-

"Date?" Ronald asked, incredulous. Severus winced. He had said it. The secret, charming word, the word of hope that fizzled under his skin.

"What else would you call it?" Severus asked, mustering up his courage. He needed to win and get out of here before his cheeks turned crimson and he was the laughing stock of every paper in the land.

"_Date?_" Ronald looked across at Hermione, his shoulders shaking in what Severus first took to be upset. Surprise. "Sorry, I just-" The Weasley dissolved into giggles.

The room exploded in laughter. It was only Ronald, his booming voice taking up too much space, loud from a lifetime of being the youngest boy and a career on quidditch fields, shouting above the wind. To Severus it felt like his childhood all over again. Like Lily, standing by while James Potter and Sirius teased him.

He'd said unforgivable things as a teenager, and he wouldn't repeat his mistake now.

Severus turned his gaze across the table to Hermione, whom he could see now, because Ronald had fallen back onto his chair, laughing so hard tears streamed from his eyes.

She looked… shocked. Confused. Thoughtful.

There was the answer Severus had needed, then.

He fingered the bracelet, but the coolness of the metal against his skin wasn't nearly enough. His chest was filling up with those ice shards, compressing his lungs into a small tube, and he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen. With careful, measured movements he pulled the bracelet out of his pocket and placed it on the table, sliding it across to Hermione.

"You left this at Minerva's," he explained. "She asked me to return it to you."

Severus turned on his heel, Ronald's merriment echoing behind him, chasing his footsteps. He _Apparated_ to shake the sound, but even in the cold fields of Scotland, the length of the country away, it still haunted him.

From habit he reached into his pocket, half-expecting the comfort of Hermione's bracelet to balm his soul and soothe his chest, that little piece of her that told him they still had a connection - but it was gone.

Just like her.


	16. Chapter 16: Confessions

The gravel crunched underneath his boots, cold and frost-hard. Hogwarts looked unchanged since this morning, despite the weak autumn sun filtering in through the clouds. He marched up through the doors and towards his quarters, his only aim a strong whiskey and a good book. The thought of Eri flitted through his mind, but he shook his head. He didn't want some pale reflection of Hermione to fill this void inside him. It would never be enough.

He kept seeing her gaze wherever he looked, shocked and confused. Severus was disgusted in himself, in his pretensions. She'd thought that this was only a friendship, only a meeting of two minds. Perhaps she'd seen him as a _Mentor_. A _father figure_.

Severus shuddered, took the corner of the staircase hard, and nearly collided with Vector.

"Severus! I've been waiting for you!"

Severus blinked. "You have? Here?"

"Well, no. I mean, I'm just on my way back from the library. But I was looking for you."

"In… the library?"

A strained smile stretched across Vector's lips. "Not exactly. Just keeping my eyes open."

"I see…" said Severus, though he didn't. "What can I help you with?"

There was a shift in the air behind him that made Severus shiver - like someone had walked on his grave. He almost turned around, and then-

"I wanted to ask you out. For a beer. Or a coffee. Your choice."

Severus gaped at her, his whiskey forgotten. "Ask me out?" he repeated. It felt as though his IQ had plummeted through the floor, leaving his mouth able only to mimic conversation.

"Yes." Vector rubbed her neck, glancing up at him as she did so. "I know the war wasn't kind on you. It wasn't kind on any of us. But your actions… they've shown you to be an honourable man. A _good _man. I know few women who wouldn't want to… to go out with you." She swallowed, and Severus did the same, his throat numb and dry.

"That…" Severus coughed, the thoughts lodging in his throat. "That's very kind, but…" he thought back to Hermione's stricken expression in the cafe, how beautiful she had looked in the sunlight, even as she seemed shocked at his words.

Vector stiffened. "I understand."

"You do?" Severus laughed, surprising himself with the bitter, sharp notes. "I'm not sure I do myself. You're a good woman, Septima. If I might call you-" he interrupted himself at her nod. "You're smart - razor sharp - and you have a dark and delicious sense of humour. Any man would be lucky to gain your attention."

"Except you?"

"Yes." Severus' mouth twitched in self-mockery. "I seem to have become rather entangled with someone else - and, despite the fact that she would never return my feelings, could never… It wouldn't be fair to you to try to start something."

"That's… very noble." Vector looked past his face and blushed, a scarlet colour that crept up her neckline and across her cheeks.

Noble was one word for it, Severus thought, as he smiled a strained smile at the Arithmancy professor. Stupidity was another. Severus was well aware that despite Vector's optimistic summary of his dating field, he was rather limited in that regard. He'd taught most of Wizarding England whilst pretending to be a bitter bastard, conniving always to put Slytherin's worst members on top. Few women - or men, for that matter, had Severus leant that way - would be willing to overlook such past interactions.

Vector interrupted his maudlin thoughts with a nod of farewell as she turned and went back the way she'd came.

"Severus?"

The voice behind him was soft, brushed with surprise. Severus started as though somebody had stabbed him. Closing his eyes with a quick prayer for patience, Severus turned on his heel and stared down at Hermione's face, haloed by bushy hair. "Miss Granger. Can I help you?"

"I heard what you said."

"Congratulations." Severus felt himself retreat into sarcasm, protecting himself from further conversation. "You have at least one functioning ear. Perhaps you ought to have used it more in the classroom, and learnt to listen, not speak."

She ignored the barb. "Was that… are you…" she swallowed, and Severus found himself oddly captivated by the shadows in her throat. "When you said we were on a date, earlier-"

Severus cast about the corridor, his cheeks hot. Why did women suddenly want to accost him in corridors, where there might be students about? Vector had been lucky, but he could feel the clocks ticking closer to dinner, when the passages would be flooded by chattering, short, gossiping little shits.

"Hermione," Severus cut off whatever it was she'd been about to say. "I did indeed. Surprisingly your ears were working then too."

He span on his heel and marched towards his quarters, desperate to reach their sanctity before his personal life was spread all around the school. Children could be cruel, especially to their teachers, and he could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and the bridge of his nose, threatening to disgrace him. He would _never_ live down _tears_.

"Severus," Hermione panted, following his footsteps. "Don't you want to talk about it?"

With a sigh that bordered on his entire lung capacity, Severus bit out, "If you'd like to follow me to my rooms?"

"Right." Hermione darted a look around them, then added in a hushed whisper. "Do the walls have ears?"

"Miss Granger." Severus stopped walking. "That painting there is usually inhabited by a woman of the name of Lucy Miqueal, who is, as far as I can currently tell, hiding behind the painted curtain." A twitch of curtain confirmed the theory. "This frame belongs to the fat lady - she likes a home away from the students, especially after her frame was destroyed last year - and anything that woman learns she immediately tells both the Headmistress and the Head of Gryffindor. And this statue-" Severus moved his foot in a threatening manner towards it, and it shivered and uncurled, glaring pointedly at Severus as it trundled a few steps away and sat down. "This is a prototype the Weasley twin made and sold to his niece and nephew. I'm almost certain it was made with 'annoying Snape' as its main goal, but other than that it-"

"I take notes-" the statue interrupted. If one squinted, you could see that it was supposed to be a garden gnome. "I take notes in lessons, except that bat won't let me in his classroom."

"Yes, because the students should be taking notes themselves," Severus growled. "We've discussed this already."

"Yeah but-"

"He's right, you know." Hermione cut in. "Students who take their own notes often show higher recall. But maybe…" she tapped her finger against her lips. "I'll talk to George. I can see applications for this for students who can't write or read quickly, or as a revision or checking device against the student's own notes."

Severus, as impressed as he was with her educational knowledge, did not want to talk about George Weasley's Gnote Gnome. He snarled at it - and her - and stalked into the dungeons.

His temper was developing into a fine flurry, and he let it. He needed _something_ to protect him from the awkward 'just friends' conversation that they were on the brink of, after all.

"So," he said, opening the heavy, dark brown door and ushering her through the threshold. "Drink?"

"Sure. Do you have tea?"

"Yes."

"What kinds?"

Severus stared at her, then shrugged and summoned a House Elf. He didn't normally use them - his whiskey was in his rooms, his tea in a box on his desk, and that was about all he needed - but if Hermione wanted to be picky, she could have the run of Hogwarts.

"Erm…. Just a black tea, please."

"Dab of milk and sugar, miss? Just like you used to drink it?"

Severus smiled at Hermione's vaguely shocked expression - he'd long ago become used to the House Elf eidetic memory for people and their preferences.

"Please."

"I'm surprised you agreed to order from an Elf," drawled Severus, deciding against the whisky. He promised himself the indulgence after she left - and besides, the elf would return with a tea for him, too. "I remember that during your time at Hogwarts you tried to boycott them."

"_Boycott them_?" Hermione spluttered. "I never- I tried to get them to realise that they could have their own lives, that they didn't need to belong to anyone - they were people, too."

"Not every _person_ has that right," Severus shot back, before realising that his anger surged through the words, hot enough to melt iron.

Hermione blinked. "You didn't, you mean."

"The Headmaster was many things. Unlike Aristotle, though, he did not free his slaves upon his death." Hermione's gaze felt heavy on the tortured skin at the base of his neck, and Severus drew a long, shaky breath. "I'm sorry. This was-"

"I understand," she interrupted. "Nobody campaigned for you."

"And I wouldn't have wanted them to!"

"But you would have liked the thought," she challenged.

Severus' mouth actually hung open for a few moments before he laughed, surprising himself. "Perhaps," he acknowledged. "Perhaps."

The tea arrived - as Severus had suspected, two cups and a teapot, a small bowl of sugar cubes, with tongs, and a tiny jug of milk. The Elf did not reappear, the tea appearing as if by magic at his elbow.

"It's kind of admirable, in a way," Hermione said, stirring the tea. "The House Elves are powerful, really very powerful compared to the average witch or wizard. They can do things we think of as impossible. And they choose to serve us with all that power, for some reason."

Severus had that uncomfortable itch in his shoulder that told him they were no longer just talking about House Elves. He could snarl that his was never a _choice_ to serve, that he had been serving time for Lily's death, for his bad choices, but that would require reopening wounds he'd long since begged to be free of. Even being rebuffed might be an easier conversation than that.

"So, you followed me here…". Severus raised an eyebrow expectantly as she began pouring tea.

"Those things you said in the hall. That you're… interested in someone. Romantically." The bright red Hermione turned as she sucked in a deep breath and rushed into the question made Severus think she was going for some kind of Gryffindor award, in the distant part of himself that could still think. The rest of him was waiting with breathless anticipation for the words that would follow, practically vibrating with the impulse to fight or flee. Or both - Severus had long been the master of both. "Would you… is it me?"

Her gaze shot up from the teapot to meet his own dark eyes.

Here was a pretty problem. Severus still had no idea how she felt. If he told the truth, he risked being laughed at - or worse, losing Hermione's friendship. But if he lied, if he said he was infatuated with someone else… he risked losing any interest Hermione might have in him, however slight.

That wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

"Yes," he growled, picking up the delicate tea cup and holding it as a shield between them. He couldn't look away from the floor, his gaze drawn there like a magnet.

"And when you said it was a date, earlier. That wasn't a slip of the tongue? We were…. You thought we were on a date?"

Severus felt as though his entire body was burning up with shame. He couldn't answer, his voice failing him. He nodded instead.

When he looked up at her, she was grinning brightly at him. Severus was still trying to figure out whether that was a good sign or not when she put down her tea cup and barrelled into him, wrapping her arms around his chest. He thanked Merlin that his reactions were still as fast as ever - his tea cup full of scalding tea hovered safely above them.

"Severus," she whispered. "I… I was really hoping…" She tailed off, squeezing him even more tightly.

Severus pat her on the back awkwardly. This had not been the reaction he'd expected, but it felt like a vice squeezed around his heart. He couldn't silence that voice in the back of his mind that told him this _couldn't _really be happening, that nobody was this lucky, that he didn't _deserve _this_._

She reared back and smiled up at him, as bright as the sun. He managed to wrap his tongue around something resembling a sentence.

He had to know for sure. "So then… you do feel the same way? That is to say…"

Hermione took a step backwards, her eyes bright in a rosy pink face, almost bumping into the teapot cooling on the desk. "Severus Snape, yes, I'd love to go out on a date with you." She hesitated. "Unless Ron scared you off. Or my dingy apartment. Ministry pay isn't exactly the best in the world but I make it work-"

Severus followed her, stepping so that he could almost feel the heat radiating from her soft skin. Her mouth was running, listing reasons that he _shouldn't_ want to date her, but Severus didn't care about those. He watched the shapes it made, but he was already far too invested to worry about her pay, or her hair, or the fact that when she focused, she tended to lose track of time. And if she were a terrible chef, well, Severus knew a thing or two about knives and he was sure the skill transferred to cooking and-

By Merlin, the only thing he wanted to do was kiss her. Press his lips against her rosy pink ones. Slowly, leaving her plenty of ways to escape, he leaned down. Her voice trailed off.

"Hermione," he whispered, his eyes flicking up to hers. His voice sounded breathless and as full of anticipation as he was. "I'm going to kiss you."

"Yes." The word was filled with longing. As if to underscore it, she tilted her chin upwards, giving him easier access.

He pressed his thin lips to her full ones, feeling the softness give beneath him, the subtle play of lips sending bursts of joy through his body like fireworks, exploding around his heart, and felt his walls melt and crumble.

_fin_

* * *

AN

Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story, and double thanks for the reviewers! There is an epilogue still to come, but this piece is now finished! Thank you once again - without your favourites and reviews, this story would have sat, half-written, amassing literary cobwebs and never seen the light of day. So if you enjoyed it, you have only yourselves to thank!


	17. Chapter 17: Epilogue

Hermione was in a frazzle. Everything was set up just perfectly - the drinks, some dried ham and cheeses she'd bought at Waitrose, doughnuts and cupcakes kindly donated by the Hogwarts House Elf Association and tables, chairs and boardgames scattered throughout the room. She felt as nervous as if this was her birthday party, and could only hope that more people would come to this than had ever bothered attending any of those.

The first ever meeting of a local chapter of her School Of Left-behind Offspring. Finally, it had all come together. She felt tears springing into the corners of her eyes, preying on the stress of preparing this, her anxiety and her relief at having finally done it.

"Miss Granger," Maisy, her assistant, called, her hair tightly wound up in a bun above her head. "They're here! I can see someone parking the car!"

Severus wound his arms around Hermione and caught her up in a tight hug. Instantly the stress bunched tightly in her shoulders melted away, and she sighed against him. "I just hope I can persuade the parents," she admitted. "Sending them out into the world with no understanding of their magic would be like… like sending them with no knowledge of maths! Or unable to write their names. It just sets them up for failure."

He pressed a kiss against the top of her head and she smiled.

"Don't be a fool," he said, but his tone made it an encouragement, not an insult. "No-one can withstand your powers of persuasion."

The doors of the old church groaned open, Severus swept away and the first family flooded in - a pair of men holding a little girl's hands and swinging her step by step into the church hall. Then another, and then a third family, little faces eager or shy, parents hurried, harried or calm. Soon enough Hermione was surrounded by laughing, playing, loud children. One in a wheelchair was discussing something in fast and furious tones with a little, tired looking boy who kept glancing over at an elderly woman sat by the door, her skin grey. That must be Antony and his grandmother - the boy was the only family she had left, and was thus her full-time carer. He'd explained as much in his response to Hogwarts' letter, declining their offer that he join them last year. Hermione was proud and pleased to bursting that he'd been able to come here. That he was still going to be able to learn how to use his magic. She flushed with pleasure, imaging how much easier his almighty burden would be to bear with the use of magic to grease the wheels: do the washing up, perhaps, or fold the laundry. The course was full of small, practical applications of magic like that, for precisely that reason. Of course, getting them licenses to practice their magic in the home was going to be tough, but Hermione felt more than up to the challenge.

As Hermione moved to speak to Antony's grandmother, another little boy shuffled in through the door, clinging tightly to his mother's trouser leg. Hermione didn't remember this young man from the list, but she smiled widely and went over to them.

"Hello, welcome! Are you here for…" her voice tailed off. What if they _weren't_ on the list, what if they were Muggles trying to get to some event? She was fairly sure she'd placed the Repello Muggletum charms at all four corners of the property, but one could never be too careful.

The woman smiled, her lips pressed together so tightly the smile had to struggle just to appear. "I know we weren't invited, but Rosemelda read about it in the _Prophet_ and said we had to try. My name is Janine."

"Well… Welcome! Please, come in. The cloakroom is over there, there are cakes and drinks…" Hermione tailed off as she noticed the boy was shrinking even further away, towards the door. She kneeled down. "What's your name, then?"

Silently, the boy pushed his face against his mother's leg, completely blocking him from view.

"Thomas," his mother sighed. "His name is Thomas."

"What's Thomas' favourite sweet?" Hermione asked, craning her head back to look up at the woman's face.

"Gummy worms."

"Gummy worms!" Hermione waved her hand and a fresh packet floated through the air towards her - a trick she'd finally managed to pick up from Severus. "Well, what a surprise! I have a bag full right here!" From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Thomas pull back and stare at her. She didn't look at him as she continued, speaking to Janine as though the words were meant for her, even if it did crane her neck. "If Thomas were brave, he could come forwards and grab a handful! Such a shame if he were to miss out."

Janine smiled again before letting it melt away, as though the muscles were unused to holding the expression. "He has a little trouble-" before she'd finished the sentence, Thomas had taken two steps forward, still clutching a fistful of trousers in one hand, and grabbed a handful as Hermione had suggested. He then retreated, his mouth already wrapped around one of the wriggling prize.

"Well, I guess he must be a Gryffindor after all!"

"A Gryffindor-" Janine sucked in a breath. "Well, I'm not sure…. Maybe Hufflepuff…"

"Why not? He's a very brave young boy, coming here today. Accepting my gummy worms. I'm sure he's very loyal to his friends, aren't you, Thomas?"

Thomas glanced up at her and nodded, then returned to chewing with gumption. He was holding onto Janine's trousers with both hands again, the worms crushed against the expensive fabric, and Hermione winced. Nevertheless she pushed forwards.

"Well, what do you say, Thomas? Are you a Gryffindor?"

Thomas shrugged. He had more important things to consider.

"Nonsense." Severus' voice cut through the chatter as he descended on Hermione's conversation like a bat, his cloak ruffling behind him. She had to admit, even as she compared his approach with wildlife, that there was something powerful and appealing in the man she had chosen, even just the way he _walked_.

And then her brain processed what he'd said, and she winced.

"Severus, I'm sure-"

He dropped to his knees besides her, his attention focussed like a laser on the young boy. "You don't want to be in Gryffindor. You won't even be attending Hogwarts, you'll be studying right here in Bapchild."

"Severus-" Hermione growled. He ignored her. Thomas was staring up into Severus' severe, black eyes with something that looked like confusion blended with interest. Hermione bit her tongue - if he could get the boy's _eye contact_ maybe there was something to the direct, focused approach.

"I think you can do one better than Gryffindor, don't you?"

"What?" Thomas asked, his voice thick with gummy worms. He let go of his mother's trouser leg in order to stuff the remainder of sugary treats in there, and was so hypnotised by Severus that he forgot to grab hold of it again.

"Well, you won't be going to Hogwarts, which means you won't be sorted into a House. You'll be Houseless. No history, no staying in dorms, no trekking across a castle to try and get to your next lesson. Lucky you! But that also means you don't need to be stuck with only one good thing. You don't have to be just brave. You can be brave like a Gryffindor _and_ cunning like a Slytherin. You can be loyal to your friends _and _you can study hard. You can be whatever you want to be."

Thomas looked up at Severus and frowned. Hermione, far more taken by the inspirational speech than it's intended recipient, could feel chills chasing up and down her arms, coating her with goosebumps.

"I want to be happy," Thomas told Severus, the final gummy worm taking his open mouth as a chance for escape and lunging out. Thomas caught it easily in midair and crammed it back. "Is there a house for that?"

"There doesn't need to be one. You can just… be happy." Severus spread his hands.

Thomas grinned. "Then I want to be in that House. The Houseless House."

"I…". Severus' frown quickly morphed into a grin. "I think that's perfect."

Nodding, Thomas retreated back behind Janine, his tolerance for human contact clearly used up. Hermione stood, groaning as her back and knees complained. "Thank you," Janine said, pressing her hands against Severus' arm. "That's the most words he's spoken to a stranger… ever. Thank you." There was a tear track leaking down her cheek and wobbling at the edge of her jaw. Severus smiled.

"He's a clever boy," he said softly. "He must have inherited it from you."

Hermione slipped her arm into Severus' as they turned away and went to mingle with the rest of the children. Thomas' life might never be easy, but hopefully learning magic would help him experience life in a new way. Maybe he'd even learn, as she and Severus had, to find happiness no matter where they ended up.

Severus searched out her hand and squeezed it. "You must be a witch," he whispered. "To have pulled all this off. Look at how happy they all are."

She squeezed back. "I had some help," she admitted, smiling. The children spilled around them, laughing and playing, and Severus twisted until he held her lightly in his arms, her back pressed against him.

"When this pilot school is settled, and the board approve the country-wide schools I know you're planning, do you…" he hesitated, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to vibrate with anticipation. He continued, his lips moving so close to her ear she imagined she could feel the air moving around them. "Would you like to have one of our own?"

"A child?"

"A child," he confirmed. Hermione's brain seemed to switch gears instantly, visions of their future child - children? - tumbling around her.

"Severus… maybe one day. Definitely one day, with you. But…" she gazed around the room full of children, at Vector's sister, Florence, who was going to be their teacher here in Bapchild, preparing to take the stage. "Let's take it one step at a time. I have a lot to organise, here and at home… we donate even live together yet!"

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, but she could feel the smile hidden in her bushy hair. "Of course. I'm looking forward to the list. Lists?"

She squeezed his hand again. "Multipart lists. Couple stepping stones." The room was chaos around them, but standing with Severus made Hermione feel as though all the stress melted away. "I love you." She chanced a glance away from the madness, catching his dark eyes.

Severus smiled. "I love you too."

—

_AN_

_Thank you so much for coming on this amazing journey with me! I couldn't have written all of this without your wonderful reviews keeping me going._

_If you were interested in some real life studies of addiction, you can find out more by watching Johann Hari's ted talk. Addiction is a problem that can affect any of us at any time, so remember to reach out to those you love if you feel strong and safe enough to do so. Be kind to yourself, be kind to others, and know that I'm so grateful you could be here with me!_


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